INSIDE VOICES (rough draft)

INSIDE VOICES (rough draft. Feedback would be appreciated; I've never written a script-type-thing before)

Scene opens with Margaret seated on her bed, irritably scribbling in her sketchbook. The Beatles’ “I’m So Tired” plays as camera pans around her room, showing her artwork, her stuffed tiger, her dog.

COLIN: Calling from downstairs Margie? Margie, where are you? Margaret, come on; you know I know you’re in here.

Colin enters Margaret’s room to find her sitting on the bed, facing the door and glaring at him.

MARGARET: Welcome back, jackwad.

COLIN: What’s wrong with you?

MARGARET: Aren’t you going to apologize for the other night?

COLIN: Why? What’d I do?

MARGARET: …You didn’t have to bring her here.

COLIN: You said I could always come here.

MARGARET: I said YOU could always come here, not your friends.

COLIN: She wasn—

MARGARET: Or your girlfriend, or whatever.

COLIN: She wasn’t my friend or my girlfriend. I was really drunk—

MARGARET: You’re drunk right now.

COLIN: I’m not drunk, I’m hung over. There’s a big difference. Anyway, Trent ditched me to chase tail. A barista gave me a lift.

MARGARET: A lift and a—

COLIN: Yeah, she came in. I know. I was drunk. I’m sorry, ok? It’ll never happen again.

MARGARET: No, it won’t. Give me back my apartment key.

COLIN: Margie, come on; you don’t really want it. Besides, you know I really need a place to stay tonight and I shouldn’t be driving. And just because you’re a prude doesn’t mean everyone else should be.

MARGARET: I am not a prude. Having some kind of moral standard doesn’t make me a prude.

COLIN: Of course it’s easy for you. You’re not any better than me; you just don’t have the opportunity to do stuff. No life, no temptation. It’s pretty simple to maintain standards when you’re locked up here alone in your room all day, day after day after day after day—

MARGARET: Stop it, Colin! Agoraphobia is a real and debilitating psychological condition. Which you’d know if you even cracked the cover of that book I gave you.

COLIN: I didn’t have to read it. “Psychological condition”; you know that means it’s all in your head, right?

MARGARET: Yes, but it doesn’t mean I can control it.

COLIN: Maybe you could, if you weren’t too proud for therapy. Or is it just because you’re too scared to leave your house? Sorry, I get confused trying to figure out what’s just a personality flaw and what’s some weird tick in your brain.

MARGARET: I’m too proud to go to therapy? Have you ever been to an AA meeting?

COLIN: Of course not. I’m not an alcoholic.

MARGARET: Pause. You really think you’re not an alcoholic?

COLIN: You really think I am?

MARGARET: What?! I haven’t seen you completely sober almost two years! And for the past six months you’ve been hanging around here all the time. When was the last time you held onto a job for more than three days? You drank yourself broke, got evicted from your apartment, and now I have to tuck you into my guest bed almost every night. Why do you think I stopped keeping booze around? I didn’t want to enable you.

COLIN: “Enable me”? Fine, I’ll stop cleaning your dog’s crap out of the lawn. Maybe once I quit enabling you, you’ll get evicted too.

MARGARET: …You clean up after Casper?

COLIN: Yeah; why do you think you haven’t heard from your landlord?

MARGARET: Why didn’t you tell me before?

COLIN: Cause you never threw a fit about me crashing here before.

MARGARET: Oh. Well. Thanks. Sorry.

COLIN: Whatever. I’m keeping the key.

MARGARET: Yeah, ok.

Silence. Colin sits on the edge of Margaret’s bed.

COLIN: You really should try to get over that agora-thing.

MARGARET: Phobia.

COLIN: Whatever. You should try to get it fixed; you’re missing a lot of life, festering in here 24/7.

MARGARET: I’m not festering.

COLIN: Studies Margaret for a moment, his face grimly contemplative. Ok…I’m going to walk down to Casey’s…do you need anything?

MARGARET: I’m not an invalid.

COLIN: Rolls eyes. I know, that’s not—Sighs Bye, Margie.

MARGARET: Bye. Then, a little too late, Thanks.

*When Colin returns*:

MARGARET: Very distressed. Casper ran away.

COLIN: What? How?

MARGARET: I let him outside just like always but he saw another dog and ran off after it. I tried to go after him but…it smelled like exhaust and I couldn’t make myself go so I just called and called but he didn’t come back…

COLIN: How long ago?

MARGARET: Ah hour and twelve minutes.

COLIN: I’ll go find him.

MARGARET: Are you sure? I could call someone—

COLIN: No, chill. I’ll go and be back asap. He couldn’t have gotten that far.

MARGARET: Thank you.

COLIN: Sure. Don’t worry. I’ll call you later. Bye.

MARGARET: Bye…


Three hours pass, phone rings.

MARGARET: Anything?

COLIN: No. I’m sorry, Margie. I’ve looked everywhere…

MARGARET: It’s not your fault. Go flirt with a waitress; I’ll look into putting an ad in the paper.

COLIN: Dry chuckle You know me well. See ya.

“Something Vague” (Bright Eyes) fades in

MARGARET: Yeah, see ya. And thank you. Very much.

COLIN: Pause Sure.

Colin goes to the liquor store and gets smashed sitting on the floor outside Margaret’s apartment.

*Later that night*:

MARGARET: Humming. Gazing out a window at the city lights, sitting Indian-style by Colin, who is passed out.

COLIN: Groans and shifts.

“Naked as a Window” (Josh Ritter) plays

MARGARET: What if this is it?

COLIN: Hmm? What?

MARGARET: What if this is all there is for us?

COLIN: It might be.

MARGARET: That would suck.

COLIN: It would.

MARGARET: Thanks.

COLIN: Hmm? For what?

MARGARET: For not trying to convince me that things will get better. I hate that; people pretending there are guarantees that don’t exist and making predictions they know nothing about. I mean, no one can make promises like that. Why do they keep saying it?

COLIN: I dunno; I’ve always thought that was just a band-aid myself...Rolls over onto his back, looking up at Margaret. You’re pretty.

MARGARET: What?

COLIN: Reaches up to touch her collarbone. Margaret flinches; Colin doesn’t notice. His fingers wind into the sleeve of her blouse. You heard me. You’re pretty. I like you. You’re a pretty girl. Like…a picture. Haha, pretty as a picture...You know what?

MARGARET:…What…?

COLIN: I want to kiss you, Picture Girl.

MARGARET: Blushing and awkward. …Colin…um, you’re drunk…

COLIN: Ugh! Drops arm. Stop saying that! I’m trying to tell you something here and you won’t shut up about—

MARGARET: No, no; that’s not what I meant. It’s just…you don’t know what you’re saying and if you even remember you’ll wish you hadn’t said it. I’ll pretend you didn’t, but it’ll still be all weird cause we’ll both know that you did…you should just go back to sleep.

COLIN: Grabs Margaret’s wrist. No. No, Margie. You blew me off like that last year, so I waited to see if time would make you think any more, but I’m done waiting for you to take me seriously.

MARGARET: Colin, stop—

COLIN: No, listen. Just cause I’m drunk doesn’t mean it isn’t true, and you know it. You’re always hiding from things. You’re hiding from the entire world outside and you’re hiding from me—

MARGARET: You’re hurting me.

COLIN: No I’m not; I can’t. You won’t let me close enough to hurt—

MARGARET: Tries to pry his hand from her wrist. Ow! No, Colin, you’re hurting me. Colin, let go!

COLIN: Sits up, horrified. Margie! Margie I’m so sorry! Reaches for her arm. I didn’t mean to—

MARGARET: Instinctively pulls her arm away. It’s ok; it’s fine.

COLIN: pulls his hand back and sits in shameful silence for a moment, his hands folded in his lap. Did it—I mean—did I—

MARGARET: Looks at him and softens. No, it’s fine, really. See? Holds her arm out to him.

COLIN: Takes Margaret’s arm extremely gently, traces reddening finger-marks. Shit. Oh, shit…

MARGARET: Colin, it’s ok.

COLIN: I can’t believe I did that—

MARGARET: Leans in so that her face is close to his. Shut up already. I said it’s ok; stop being so dramatic.

Pause

COLIN: I think…

“Of Angels and Angles” (The Decemberists) plays

MARGARET: What?

COLIN: Slowly cradles Margaret’s chin in his hand; kisses her on one cheek, looks into her eyes, then kisses the other.

MARGARET: Whispering, looking down shyly. I think so, too.

Goes dark, fades in again; Margaret is asleep on Colin’s lap. Colin is stroking her hair. She wakes up and smiles groggily at him.

COLIN: We’re fragile beings, you and I. Please, let’s try not to break each other.

MARGARET: How can we not? Neither of us can stand the way the other lives.

COLIN: That doesn’t change how much I want to hold you.

MARGARET: Sits up. And if you get to? What then? Feelings come and go, but we both know our vices are home to us.

COLIN: We couldn’t relocate? For this? For…us?


MARGARET: Colin…there is no “us”. You know it doesn’t work that way.

COLIN: Fine, but maybe it doesn’t have to. Our shit controls so much of our lives; does it have to control this, too?

MARGARET: What do you think? What do you think will happen when I never let you see me in the sunlight, or you get drunk and screw some random bar skank? Do you think we’ll be able to look at each other and say it doesn’t matter?

COLIN: I wouldn’t cheat on you—

“Haligh, Haligh, a Lie” (Bright Eyes) fades in

MARGARET: Don’t be naïve, Colin. You get drunk. You do stupid things you regret.

COLIN: Maybe if you’d come with me—

MARGARET: Stands up, exasperated. No! See? That might never happen so it’s stupid to just cross our fingers and hope things will magically work out! Neither of us can conquer our--

COLIN: Margie! Margie, you think this stuff is so big and it’s not. So I drink too much. So you stay inside. Don’t blow it out of proportion. It’s this simple: If you would just come out—no, Margie, listen—Its all in your head. The fear, it’s all in your head. If you would just come out with me—

MARGARET: getting worked up It isn’t that easy.

COLIN: You don’t think it’s that easy, but it is. The only thing keeping you in this apartment is you—

MARGARET: Indignant What? How could you think that? What the hell makes you think that’s all there is to it? If this stuff were that easy to fix, why the hell are we like this? How come—

COLIN: Violent shout Because you won’t let me help you!

Pause

MARGARET: I won’t let you…give me my key.

COLIN: Margie I—

MARGARET: Give me the damn key!

COLIN: Stares at Margaret for a moment, tosses her the key, and leaves the apartment.

Door slams; Margaret sits down on the floor and cries.

Something plays during a montage of Margaret standing at her door clutching a Lost Dog poster, and Colin staying sober on a three-day search for Casper. Song ends and Colin, with Casper on a makeshift leash, walks up to Margaret’s apartment building, which is burning and surrounded by a crowd of people, fire trucks, and ambulances. Colin drops Casper’s leash and runs toward the building. Firemen stop him, insisting that he get back. Someone is sitting on the curb; Colin approaches him.

COLIN: Do you know what happened?

MAN: No.

COLIN: Is everyone alright?

MAN: No.

COLIN: How do you know?

MAN: I’m the landlord. I was running up and down the halls on the last two floors that weren’t already crumbling, banging on doors to make sure people got out. When I got to room number 246b, she followed right behind me. When we got to the building’s exit, she just stood there, like she was scared to leave. Then she said she forgot something and ran back toward her room. I tried to go after her, but the smoke was so thick by then I couldn’t see or breathe so I panicked and ran back outside…the fireman said they’d go in after her…she was already gone by the time they brought her out. I can’t believe I let her go running off like that…I wish I could remember her name…Maybe it was Mary.

COLIN: hoarse whisper Margaret.

MAN: Oh, yeah, I remember now. Margaret. I thought she had a dog, but I didn’t see him anywhere…

Colin has already walked away by the time the man is finished speaking. He walks, sits on a bench and cries some, then walks into a dingy bar.

BARTENDER: No dogs.

COLIN: I’ll just be a minute—

BARTENDER: I said no dogs. Get him out of here.

COLIN: Can—

BARTENDER: Now, damn it!

Colin walks Casper to a clump of trees in the lawn of a business next to the bar. He ties Casper to a tree.

COLIN: Petting Casper Stay here, boy. I’ll be back in a little while.

Casper whimpers as Colin walks away.



THE END