Unwell Season 3/Episode 5 - Hark
by Jessica Best
Merry Christmas.
What day is it?
Merry Christmas
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Content Advisories for this episode can be found here.
Support Unwell and HartLife NFP on Patreon at www.patreon.com/hartlifenfp
This episode features: Marsha Harman as Dot, Symphony Sanders as Young Lily, Kathleen Hoil as Abbie, Michael Turrentine as Wes, Bilal Dardai as Sheriff Joshi
Written by Jessica Best, sound design by Ryan Schile, directed by Jeffrey Nils Gardner, theme music composed by Stephen Poon, recording engineer Mel Ruder, associate producer TH Ponders, Theme performed by Stephen Poon, Lauren Kelly, Gunnar Jebsen, Travis Elfers, Mel Ruder, and Betsey Palmer, Unwell lead sound designer Eli Hamada McIlveen, Executive Producers Eleanor Hyde and Jeffrey Nils Gardner, by HartLife NFP.
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TAPE FAST FORWARDS AND REWINDS. SOMEONE IS SEARCHING FOR SOMETHING.
WE HEAR SOME OF DOT’S VOICE, SOME SINGING, AND THEN:
A FIREPLACE CRACKLES COZILY.
DOT: Ooh, open this one next, Lily!
YOUNG LILY: I was saving it for last.
DOT: Eleven is way too young to believe in delayed gratification.
C’mon, open it!
FX: PAPER IS GINGERLY
REMOVED.
DOT: Not like that! Tear into it! Rip it to shreds!
YOUNG LILY: (LAUGHING) Mom…what if you wanna save the paper?
DOT: To Hell with the paper! It’s Christmas morning in America,
let’s have some carnage!
FX: PAPER IS RIPPED OFF WITH
GUSTO AND TOSSED ASIDE
DOT: That’s the ticket! You’re a lion and it’s a delicious
wildebeest! Rend that sucker in twain! Taste those entrails!
YOUNG LILY: (ROARS)
DOT: That’s the goddamn spirit!
YOUNG LILY: Don’t swear , Mom.
DOT: Why the shit not?
YOUNG LILY: It’s--weird.
DOT: Lilybelle, it’s time you knew. Your mother is a certified
genuine Class A weirdo.
YOUNG LILY: You didn’t used to.
DOT: People didn’t used to give their kids anything but a sock full
of oranges for Christmas, who cares about used to? Now
let’s--
YOUNG LILY: You only started when you and Dad-- (REALIZING SHE’S
SAID MORE THAN SHE WANTED TO). I mean--
DOT: It’s okay, Lily, it’s okay.
YOUNG LILY: (DUBIOUS) Mom...
DOT: Fine, you’re right, but it’s gonna be eventually, if we just--
YOUNG LILY: When.
DOT: I don’t know.
But until then, I say we fake it ‘til we make it. Now. I believe
we had a wildebeest carcass to devour?
PAPER RIPS AND IS THROWN
ASIDE.
DOT: There we go. Ta-da!
YOUNG LILY: It’s...a vaccuum cleaner.
DOT: Not just any vaccum cleaner. That’s a Brock Halford Extra
Horsepower Turbo Cyclone Five. The machine that sucks.
YOUNG LILY: Mom.
DOT: Any kind of surface, Lills, dust is history. Carpet, bam.
Hardwood, bam. Tile, bam. Pizza, okay who I am to
judge--
YOUNG LILY: Mom.
DOT: Just, a very dusty old pizza--
YOUNG LILY: Mom!
DOT: Lillian. Open the box.
A CARDBOARD BOX IS OPENED.
FISTFULS OF OLD NEWSPAPERS
ARE THROWN ASIDE.
YOUNG LILY: Oh my gosh!
DOT: Did I get the right one?
YOUNG LILY: It’s perfect! Oh my gosh, I love it! Does it come with tapes?
DOT: Keep digging.
RUMMAGING, WADS OF
NEWSPAPER PUSHED ASIDE .
YOUNG LILY: Yes.
CELLOPHANE IS RIPPED OFF A
PACKAGE OF TAPES. A TAPE IS
REMOVED AND POPPED INTO A
BOOMBOX.
A BUTTON IS PRESSED.
YOUNG LILY: Live from Mount Absalom Ohio, it’s the Lily Harper show!
A BUTTON IS PRESSED,
REWINDING SOUNDS
A BUTTON IS PRESSED.
YOUNG LILY (RECORDING): Live from Mount Absalom Ohio, it’s the Lily Harper show!
YOUNG LILY: Awesome.
DOT: Y’know, you’re getting to an age where, when you said you
wanted a boombox, I assumed you’d be blaring punk
music into the night until all the local old-timers started
shitting themselves.
YOUNG LILY: Mom.
DOT: I assumed, and I approved. Never trust anyone over thirty,
Lily.
YOUNG LILY: Shh!
A BUTTON IS PRESSED.
Starring me, Lily Harper! Also starring the Dorothy Harper
singers! Take it away!
(PAUSE)
Take it away!
DOT: (SOLEMNLY, TO THE TUNE OF ‘WE THREE KINGS’)
We three kings of Ohio art
Tried to make some art using farts
It was classy and so gassy--
YOUNG LILY: (ON THE VERGE OF LAUGHTER) Mom, sing it right !
DOT: Ah, ah, she’s about to laugh, audience--
YOUNG LILY: (VERGE OF LAUGHTER) No I’m not, audience, I--
DOT: Audience, I don’t know who she thinks she’s fooling, but
that’s definitely a smile!
YOUNG LILY: (VERGE OF LAUGHTER) I’m frowning, I’m frowning !
DOT: One hundred percent a smile. (A BEAT) Faaaarts!
YOUNG LILY: (CRACKS UP)
DOT: (TO THE TUNE OF ‘CAROL OF THE BELLS’)
Farts, how they smell!
Oh how they smell!
Run far away
Out of my way!
YOUNG LILY: (SINGING) Very, very, very, very stinky!
DOT AND YOUNG LILY: (SINGING) Very, very, very, very stinky!
THE AUDIO TAKES ON THE
QUALITY OF A CASSETTE TAPE.
RECORDING OF YOUNG LILY: (STILL GIGGLY) And on that note, we’ll be back after this
commercial break.
ABBIE: Dot.
RECORDING OF DOT: Hold on to your Santa hats, people, because we’re just
getting started!
THE RECORDING STOPS.
A BUTTON IS PRESSED AND THE
RECORDING REWINDS.
RECORDING OF YOUNG LILY: Live from Mount Absalom, Ohio--
ABBIE: (LOUDER) Hey, Dot.
A BUTTON IS PRESSED. THE
RECORDING STOPS.
DOT: Oh, it’s you. I was just, y’know. Doing something much less
pathetic than how this probably looks.
ABBIE: Six days.
DOT: What?
ABBIE: It’s the twenty-fifth--
DOT: Merry Christmas.
ABBIE: --yeah, and Lily comes back from her dad’s on the
thirty-first. (PAUSE) You’re sitting alone in the basement
surrounded by her childhood mementos, I deduced that
you miss her, so I was saying, six days.
DOT: How could I miss her, we’ve been living out of each other’s
pockets since May.
I miss the days I could get a laugh out of her whenever I
wanted, that’s what I miss.
ABBIE: Scatalogical humor. I never saw the appeal.
DOT: Abbie. Where’s Rudy?
ABBIE: Out.
DOT: Can you stop by the observatory and tell him--
ABBIE: He’s not there.
DOT: He’s not.
ABBIE: He left a note. Last-minute holiday plans.
DOT: Who has last-minute holiday plans ?
ABBIE: Rudy. (A BEAT) You meant rhetorically.
DOT: What kind of plans?
ABBIE: The note didn’t specify.
DOT: At all?
ABBIE: It was a short note.
DOT: Is that what you came down here to say? That you don’t
know where Rudy is?
ABBIE: I just wanted to let you know, Dot, that I downloaded one of
those Bing Crosby Christmas specials to the house
computer, if you feel like watching it.
DOT: Why.
ABBIE: In case you’d like to revisit the music of your youth.
DOT: Honest question, how old do you think I am?
ABBIE: Dot…
DOT: Bing Crosby, seriously? He’s so corny…
ABBIE: My parents like him.
DOT: Then your parents are weird.
ABBIE: No argument there. (A BEAT) Is there any more
age-appropriate Christmas music you’d prefer?
DOT: Because old songs are good for a brain that’s getting a
little moldy, you mean?
ABBIE: I would not have put it that way, but music is supposed to
help, so I figured--
DOT: Did you look up how to handle someone with dementia?
ABBIE: Should I have not done that?
DOT: Did my daughter put you up to this?
ABBIE: No.
DOT: I don’t need coddling.
ABBIE: Okay.
DOT: Why would you think I need--
ABBIE: Nothing.
DOT: It’s something. I can tell it’s something.
ABBIE: It’s five pm.
DOT: And?
ABBIE: That’s a bathrobe. And slippers.
DOT: I lost track of time. Anyone can lose track of time.
Goddamn Rudy. I was gonna make him some saltine
cracker cookies.
ABBIE: I know. I found the recipe downstairs while I was making a
shopping list.
DOT: I just got groceries. What are we out of?
ABBIE: Milk. Bread. Coffee. Bananas. Also, there’s an inch of
slush on the walk and it’s supposed to drop back down to
freezing in an hour--
DOT: I’ll tell Wes to--oh.
ABBIE: Right.
DOT: Okay, I’ll go pick up some bananas, et cetera, once I’m
done shoveling. (PAUSE) So. When do you leave?
ABBIE: The room?
DOT: Don’t you have a family?
ABBIE: (GRITTED TEETH) Yes.
DOT: I’m sure it’s beautiful in--New Hampshire--
ABBIE: Upstate New York. I already told you I was staying here
through the holidays.
DOT: No you didn’t.
ABBIE: Yes, I did.
DOT: I’d know if you had, I’d definitely know.
ABBIE: I told you a week ago.
DOT: I would’ve written it down on the calendar, so I could keep
on top of changing the sheets. Are you sure you told me?
ABBIE: Yes. Remember, it turned out my sister Gail was planning
to visit my parents and you said, “That’s nice,” and I told
you that Gail’s one condition was that I not show?
DOT: Your Mom and Dad really let her get away with that shit?
ABBIE: That’s what you said last time.
DOT: Don’t pull my leg, it’s not funny.
ABBIE: And I’m not joking.
(SIGH) Gail has a toddler-age son my parents very much
want to see, and the closest I have to offspring is two thirds
of a thesis and a mound of grad school debt, which is just
not much of a bargaining chip. It is what it is, and I don’t
want to talk about it.
DOT: Oh.
ABBIE: Yep.
DOT: ...Do you want me to make you some saltine cracker
cookies?
ABBIE: ...yes.
TRANSITION
YOUNG LILY (RECORDING) (SINGING TO THE TUNE OF “WHAT CHILD IS THIS?”)
What child is this,
What child is this,
Will someone please tell me whose child this is?
What child is this,
What child is this,
DOT (RECORDING) (SINGING) And won’t someone please change his diaper?
YOUNG LILY LAUGHS.
THE RECORDING STOPS. A
BUTTON IS PRESSED. THE
RECORDING BEGINS TO
REVERSE.
TRANSITION, WHICH FADES
INTO...
ABBIE: Dot. Dot!
WE’RE IN THE KITCHEN. THE
CLOCK TICKS. SOUND NOTE:
DOT IS STILL WEARING
SLIPPERS.
DOT: What.
ABBIE: Are you sure you’re okay?
DOT: Yes.
ABBIE: Did you take your meds?
DOT: What?
ABBIE: Your medication, Dot, did you take it?
DOT: Of course I took it.
ABBIE: You’re positive.
DOT: Yes .
ABBIE: Okay. What do we need for the cookies?
DOT: What cookies?
ABBIE: The saltine--things.
DOT: (VAGUELY) Right. That.
ABBIE: The internet says we’re expecting six inches within the
hour, and Maureen DeSouza just called to remind you that
Carrie Shih’s too pregnant to drive the snow plow this year.
Why didn’t you answer the phone?
DOT: I was busy.
ABBIE: Doing what?
DOT: I have a lot to do here. It’s a lot of work.
ABBIE: Are you sure you’re alright?
DOT: Of course I am.
ABBIE: Okay. I thought I’d run out and pick up a few things while
the roads are still safe. (PAUSE) And that I’d go ahead and
shovel the walk on my way out.
DOT: (VAGUELY) Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that.
ABBIE: Take it off my rent. So. We need coffee, bread, milk, eggs--
DOT: Get jam. Boysenberry.
ABBIE: There are three and a half jars of jam in the fridge. The
contents of the fridge are, by volume, mosty jam.
DOT: You asked what I wanted, I’m telling you what I want! Why
are you making this so--so goddamn--
ABBIE: Fine. Fine! I’ll get jam.
DOT: Now I’m not even sure if I believe you.
ABBIE: Look, I’m typing it on my phone, right now. JAM.
PHONE TYPING.
(A BEAT) What else do we need?
DOT: I don’t wanna talk to you now.
ABBIE: Dot. Do we need saltines?
DOT: I don’t know.
ABBIE: For the cookies, do we need saltines?
DOT: Why do you care?
ABBIE: You said you’d make--it doesn’t matter.
I’ll say yes, and worst case scenario, we’ll have stale
crackers to go with our copious extra jam.
PHONE TYPING.
ABBIE: Anything else?
SILENCE
ABBIE: Alright, going to assume that’s everything.
A PAIR OF KEYS RETRIEVED
FROM A HOOK.
ABBIE: Call me if you think of something.
A COAT IS PUT ON AND ZIPPED
UP.
THE SOUND OF SEVERAL
CABINET DOORS SUDDENLY
BEING SLAMMED OPEN.
ABBIE: Dot?
DOT: (SCORNFULLY) Anything else? Anything else ?
ABBIE: That’s what I...said.
DOT: Look. Look ! You’re not looking.
ABBIE: You’re pointing to a shelf.
DOT: I need it.
ABBIE: ...the shelf?
DOT: No! There, right there!
ABBIE: It’s empty.
DOT: (AS IF EXPLAINING TO A SMALL CHILD) Yes, I know it’s
empty, because I need what used to be there.
ABBIE: Okay, so what used to be--
DOT: It’s gone.
ABBIE: I can see that, but. Before it was gone, what was it?
DOT: What?
ABBIE: In order to buy more, I need to know what it is you need.
DOT: I’m telling you, you’re not listening !
ABBIE: All you’ve said is that it isn’t here.
DOT: I need more--I’m completely out--
ABBIE: Okay. What was--
DOT: It’s empty! I don’t have any!
ABBIE: Don’t have any what?
DOT: What was in the cabinet!
ABBIE: What was in the cabinet?
DOT: You tell me!
ABBIE: Dot, I don’t know what was in there.
DOT: Some help you are!
ABBIE: Is there anything else I can—
DOT: I told you, I told you so many times what I want!
ABBIE: You haven’t even told me one time!
DOT: Don’t laugh at me!
ABBIE: I assure you, I am not laughing.
DOT: I’m not stupid! You’re treating me like I’m stupid and I’m
not .
ABBIE: (TRYING TO STAY CALM) I’m not treating you like you’re
stupid. I’m just a little confused, Dot.
DOT: I’m out of one thing, I just need one thing, why won’t you
help me?
ABBIE: What do you want me to do?
DOT: You’re supposed to help. You’re supposed to help .
ABBIE: (LOST) Do you. Want some tea?
DOT: What?
ABBIE: A nice cup of herbal tea?
DOT: No, I don’t want that! What would I want that for? I want
what was there, it was right there—
ABBIE: If you think of it, let me know—
DOT: Shut up! You’re always talking, talking, talking, and you
won’t even do one thing to help!
ABBIE: I’m in the middle of doing a favor for you right now!
DOT: Where’s my daughter? Call my daughter, she’ll know.
ABBIE: I’m not calling Lily to quiz her about what used to be in the
cabinets—
DOT: Lily will know, Lily will know—
ABBIE: Lily hasn’t memorized all the contents of your kitchen—
DOT: You have no idea what to do, you don’t even want to help,
but Lily, Lily—
ABBIE: Fine, you know what? I’ll call Lily.
ABBIE SCROLLS THROUGH
THEIR PHONE TO LILY’S
CONTACT INFO AND PRESSES
DIAL
ABBIE: (PAUSE) Lily, it’s Abbie Douglas. (PAUSE) She’s—uh.
Look, is there an outside chance you remember what was
in the lower cabinet to the immediate left of the sink?
(PAUSE) Moderately important. (PAUSE) No, the cleaning
supplies are under the sink. The oatmeal is—it’s not
oatmeal, we have oatmeal. If you remember, can you call
me? Thanks.
ABBIE ENDS THE CALL.
DOT: Let me talk to her.
ABBIE: She doesn’t know.
DOT: I wanna talk to my daughter.
ABBIE: I hung up, I’m not calling her again just so you can hear
her say the words “I don’t know” with your own ears—
DOT: Why won’t you let me talk to her? Why won’t you let me
talk to my own daughter?
ABBIE: Why would I lie to you about this?
DOT: Call her back.
ABBIE: You’ll just make her—(CATCHES THEMSELF)
DOT: She’s my daughter. She’s my daughter , who the hell are
you?
ABBIE: Dot. Listen to me. You’ve had an emotionally difficult day.
Your usual support system is gone. It’s getting late, and
sundown syndrome would suggest that you are not
thinking at your best right now, so if you could take a deep
breath and try to—
DOT: You’re saying I’m crazy.
ABBIE: Mental health is highly relative, statistically about fifty
percent of adults will be diagnosed with something in their
lifetimes—
DOT: Blah, blah, blah, you mean I’m crazy.
ABBIE: That’s—a pejorative term for an extremely common
condition—
DOT: I’m not stupid and I’m not crazy!
ABBIE: We’ve well passed any chance of making progress right
now, why don’t we—
DOT: Get out of here.
ABBIE: What?
DOT: Go, get out of here. You want to leave anyway, so go. Go!
ABBIE: Actually, I think I’ll get those groceries tomorrow.
ABBIE TAKES OFF THEIR COAT
AND RETURNS THEIR KEYS TO
THE HOOK.
ABBIE: I can tolerate dry cereal for another night.
DOT: I told you to leave.
ABBIE: I live here.
DOT: I don’t know you.
ABBIE: My name is Abbie Douglas, I’ve been a lodger in your
house since late May—
DOT: No, no you’re not, I’ve never met you—
ABBIE: I’m trying to explain to you—
DOT: I’m not crazy! I’m not some—crazy woman!
ABBIE: Can you stop using that word?
DOT: Dale! Dale, where are you?
ABBIE: You’re divorced.
DOT: What are you talking about. Where is my husband.
ABBIE: He won’t come, he’s not here. Just give me a second so I
can call your doctor—
DOT: Shut up, shut up! Dale!
ABBIE DIALS A NUMBER.
ABBIE: Please, stay calm and—(PAUSE) Voicemail, fucking
compulsory Christian holidays—
DOT: Dale?
ABBIE: Look, you’ve had a hard day. Why don’t you go upstairs
and get some rest? Studies show that sleep disturbance is
linked with dementia, and--
DOT: Why don’t you get the Hell out of my house right now?
ABBIE: Alright, second change of plans. I’m going to my room.
TWO SETS OF KEYS RETRIEVED
FROM THE HOOK .
DOT: My keys!
ABBIE HEADS TOWARDS THE
STAIRS. DOT TRAILS AFTER.
ABBIE: You are not getting behind the wheel of a car like this.
DOT STOPS. ABBIE CONTINUES
TOWARDS THE STAIRS.
DOT: I’m FINE!
ABBIE STARTS UP THE STAIRS.
ABBIE: Come get me if there’s an emergency.
DOT: You don’t get to tell me what to do!
ABBIE’S DOOR SLAMS.
DOT: I’ll call the police!
DOT’S FOOTSTEPS HEAD WITH
DETERMINATION TO THE
KITCHEN. THE RADIATOR
STARTS TO CLANG AND HISS.
(TO HERSELF) I’ll call the police...They’ll know what to
do…
DOT PICKS UP THE RECEIVER,
DIALS 911.
Hello, 911?
WES: Dot...
DOT: I…
RADIATOR (WES) Dot…
DOT: What’s doing that?
WES: Dot...it’s okay...
DOT: I need to...uh...
WES: Take your medicine.
DOT: It makes me so tired. It gives me the shits. I don’t wanna.
WES: Take your medicine.
DOT: No.
THE PHONE STARTS TO BEEP
LIKE THE OTHER SIDE HAS
HUNG UP.
...they hung up.
DOT HANGS UP THE PHONE.
DOT: It’s okay. You’re okay. (STARTS TO HUM “WHAT CHILD
IS THIS?”)
Lily! Where’s Lily!
DOT RUNS OUT OF THE
KITCHEN, DOWN THE HALLWAY
LILY! LILY!
DOT PRIES OPEN THE FRONT
DOOR. SNOW IS FALLING, WIND
IS HOWLING.
DOT: LILY?
DOT STEPS OUTSIDE, SLAMMING
THE DOOR BEHIND HER.
DOT: Lily, honey? (TO HERSELF) I never should’ve left her
alone!
TRANSITION: TEN MINUTES
LATER. WIND CONTINUES TO
BLOW. DOT IS SHIVERING, AND
WALKING AS FAST AS SHE CAN
IN THE SNOW, WITH A SLIPPER
ON ONE FOOT AND NOTHING ON
THE OTHER.
DOT: Lily? Where are you?
WES (MOSTLY WIND): Dot…
DOT: Be quiet! Please be quiet!
WES (MOSTLY WIND): Dot...
DOT: Stop!
WES (MOSTLY WIND): Dot, go back inside…
DOT: No! (SHIVERING BADLY) My girl needs her mom.
WES: (MOSTLY WIND) Dot, you (LESS WIND, MORE WES)
need to (MOSTLY WES) go back inside (WES) right now!
DOT: You’re just a kid. Who--
WES: Doesn’t matter, get back inside!
DOT: Where’s Lily.
WES: She’s safe, I promise. She’s with Dale. They’re both safe.
Please come back inside, it’s too cold.
DOT: I can’t see…
WES: Wipe off your glasses.
DOT: Everything’s wet, I can’t--!
WES: Stay calm, Dot. Stay calm.
DOT: I can’t see, which way to the house--
WES: It’s okay. Walk with me.
DOT: I can’t see you!
WES: Follow my voice! This way, towards the light!
DOT: I can’t--it’s not my time yet, please--
WES: It’s Sheriff Joshi’s headlamps.
DOT: Oh.
THE CAR ROLLS TO A STOP
WITH A SNOWY CRUNCH. THE
WIPERS ARE GOING HARD. THE
DOOR OPENS.
SHERIFF JOSHI: Ms. Harper? You okay?
DOT: Uh...
THROUGH THE WIND, SHERIFF
JOSHI UNBUCKLES HIS
SEATBELT, AND JUMPS OUT OF
THE CAR, SLAMMING THE DOOR
BEHIND HIM. HE WALKS
TOWARDS DOT.
SHERIFF JOSHI: Hey, hey, let’s get you back home.
SHERIFF JOSHI WALKS DOT TO
THE PASSENGER SEAT AND
OPENS THE DOOR.
SHERIFF JOSHI: There you go, you can ride shotgun.
DOT: My daughter…
SHERIFF JOSHI: She’s fine. Let’s give her a call once you’re home, yeah?
Hey, looks like you’re down a slipper.
DOT: I--I don’t know where, I--
SHERIFF JOSHI: Don’t worry about it, Dot. And don’t freeze your feet off
looking for it. Slippers are replaceable. Toes are not.
Come on, we’re getting snow on the seat.
DOT CLIMBS INTO THE CAR. THE
DOOR SHUTS. SNOW PELTS THE
WINDSHIELD AND THE HEAT IS
ON FULL BLAST. DOT EXHALES
SHAKILY. SHERIFF JOSHI CLIMBS
IN FROM THE OTHER SIDE.
SHERIFF JOSHI: Hate to be that guy, but: seatbelt, Dot. (WARMLY) And
don’t give me that “I live on the edge” business. Nobody in
this town gets to live on the edge of automotive safety. I
think I ran on that platform once. 2000, maybe?
A SEATBELT CLICKS, THEN
ANOTHER. SHERIFF JOSHI PUTS
THE CAR IN DRIVE.
SHERIFF JOSHI: Boy, it’s really coming down out there, huh? I saw Chester
Warren at Otto’s the other day and he said we were getting
ten inches. I don’t know about that, but it is coming down.
Something for the record books, I’m sure. Climate change
and all that. Is the temperature okay for you?
DOT: What?
SHERIFF JOSHI: I know I’ve got the heat cranked pretty high but I can really
break off the knob if you want.
DOT: I’m okay.
SHERIFF JOSHI: Good, good, let me know if that changes. It’s positively
gelid out.
DOT: What?
SHERIFF JOSHI: Gelid? It means “very cold.” My wife’s sister got me one of
those word-a-day calendars for my birthday, not quite sure
what message she was trying to send, but hey, it
occasionally comes in handy, can’t complain!
DOT: I--tried to call the police…
SHERIFF JOSHI: And I’m right here.
TRANSITION: WE’RE IN THE
FENWOOD HOUSE. THE DOOR
OPENS.
ABBIE: Dot.
SHERIFF JOSHI: Season’s greetings, Abbie.
DOT AND SHERIFF JOSHI ENTER.
SHERIFF JOSHI STAMPS HIS
FEET ON THE MAT.
SHERIFF JOSHI: Here you go, Dot.
ABBIE: Is she okay?
DOT: Is who okay?
SHERIFF JOSHI: No signs of frostbite or hypothermia. Get a couple warm
blankets and some wool socks, a nice fire going, and she’ll
be better.
DOT: I’m going to bed.
SHERIFF JOSHI: That works, too.
DOT’S FOOTSTEPS UP THE
STAIRS. SHE PAUSES.
DOT: Did he come in?
SHERIFF JOSHI: Did who come in, Ms. Harper.
DOT: That nice young man. Walt, no, Will.
ABBIE: Wes is--away for the moment.
DOT: But I just saw him. (A BEAT) I...thought I saw him.
SHERIFF JOSHI: Get some rest, Dot.
DOT’S FOOTSTEPS CONTINUE
UP THE STAIRS. HER DOOR
SHUTS.
ABBIE: Thank you. For finding her.
SHERIFF JOSHI: Thanks for calling me. You did the right thing.
ABBIE: I don’t--I think--I think I’m not good at this.
SHERIFF JOSHI: Nobody starts off an expert. She’s safe, that’s what
matters. So, do you wanna do the honors or should I?
ABBIE: What?
SHERIFF JOSHI: Which of us calls Lily and gets her caught up?
ABBIE: I don’t see any reason to do that.
SHERIFF JOSHI: Are you sure?
ABBIE: Lily’s been looking forward to seeing her dad and her
stepmom for weeks. If she finds out about Dot, she’ll cut
her trip short, and for what? She can’t change her mom’s
brain chemistry.
SHERIFF JOSHI: If you’re sure.
ABBIE: I’m sure.
SHERIFF JOSHI: Boy, I never thought I’d see Dot Harper riding in a cop car.
At least, not in the front seat. It’s too bad you didn’t know
her back in her prime, she was really something. Ebullient.
Uh, that means--
ABBIE: I know what ebullient means.
SHERIFF JOSHI: I tell you what, she used to keep things around here
interesting. One time--
ABBIE: Do you mind closing down that train of thought.
SHERIFF JOSHI: I’m sorry?
ABBIE: I’m just. (POINT OF VIEW SWITCH: DOT’S ROOM.
ABBIE AND JOSHI ARE MUFFLED AND FAR OFF) A little
tired of the litany of things lost.
SHERIFF JOSHI: Of course!
RECORDING OF DOT: (SINGING) Hark the Harold angels sing,
Why the Hell are we all named Harold?
RECORDING OF LILY: (LAUGHS)
A BUTTON IS PRESSED. THE
RECORDING REWINDS. END. CREDITS.