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EXT. — RESTAURANT PARKING LOT — NIGHT

JANICE and ERIC are walking through the lot. She has her sweater pulled tight around her shoulders.

ERIC

… And she put all my stuff in boxes and put them out on the sidewalk with — you know those label guns? With a label on each one reading “property of shit head”. Which is how I became single again. (a beat)

Hey, I thought you would have enjoyed hearing about my hopeless love life.

JANICE

Oh, Eric, I never wished you bad luck. Not really. (a beat)

I’m sorry if… if I wasn’t very good company tonight. I told you this was a poor idea.

ERIC

I said I’m sorry about everything, Janice. I really am, I… I was just scared of the whole thing. You, life, what happened…

They have stopped beside his car.

JANICE

I accept the apology. I did stupid things too. Let’s just say goodnight and maybe we can be friends again. That would be something, wouldn’t it? After all this time?

ERIC

It sure would.

He reaches out and takes her hand, holding it awkwardly for a moment — he’s trying to find a way to pull her closer but she’s quietly resisting. Abruptly he drops her hand and walks to his car.

JANICE

Eric?

ERIC

Hang on a second.

He fumbles around, then pops a tape into the player and leaves the door open as he walks back. The quiet intro to Traffic’s “Low Spark of High Heeled Boys” begins to play.

JANICE

I know that.

ERIC

Of course you do. This is now officially middle-aged-people’s-music.

He suddenly takes her hand again, then pulls her toward him.

ERIC (cont.)

Remember slow dancing?

JANICE

The only kind you could do. A casualty of the Disco Invasion is what you were. C’mon, Eric, stop.

ERIC

Just a dance. Better than arguing. Come on.

JANICE allows herself to be drawn slowly into a dance.

JANICE

You do know you’re going back to your motel alone, don’t you?

ERIC

All the more reason to be quiet and let me enjoy this…

They circle across the parking lot, under the lights. A foursome walks past them and makes joking comments, but sweetly — it’s a nice moment. We dissolve slowly to:

EXT. — PIERSON HOUSE, 1976 — NIGHT

Another quiet song rises up, supplanting the Traffic — it’s Roxy Music’s “In Every Dream Home A Heartache”. Five people are sitting on the roof of the house. It’s a summer evening, last rays of sunset just vanishing, and the lights of other houses are far on the other side of the orchard.

Five teenagers are sitting along the edge of the roof, passing a joint. YOUNG ERIC and YOUNG JANICE are pressed close. Chunky YOUNG BRENT, wearing cutoffs and deck shoes, is dangling his feet over the edge and taking his turn with the joint. KIMMY, a small girl with glasses, a hooded sweatshirt, and overalls sits a yard or so from him but close to YOUNG JANICE. YOUNG TOPHER sits against the chimney, swigging from a bottle of Bacardi.

YOUNG ERIC

Last night of summer.

YOUNG JANICE

Shut up. You’ll ruin it.

YOUNG BRENT (inhaling deeply)

Nothing could ruin it but running out of dope. I love this song. Manzanera rocks so bad on this solo that it isn’t funny. YOUNG ERIC

The last night of the last summer we’re all in high school together. The night summer vacation dies forever. TOPHER (reaching down to take the joint)

Oh, shit. Poetry alert!

Everbody laughs.

YOUNG ERIC

Okay, I’ll just shut up.

YOUNG JANICE

No, baby, you’re so sweet when you talk. But just be quiet for a little while, okay?

She presses in against his side.

TOPHER passes the joint to KIMMY. After a hit, she starts to cough. JANICE leans over to slap her back.

YOUNG JANICE (cont.)

Kimmy, just take little hits! You always do that.

KIMMY (raspy, almost unable to talk)

At least I didn’t throw up. This time.

TOPHER

Erky. Throw me a cigarette, man.

ERIC tosses up his pack. TOPHER takes one and lights it.

KIMMY

How long are your grandparents gone, Eric?

YOUNG ERIC

Weeks. Months. Years.

YOUNG BRENT (laughing)

Erky is high.

YOUNG JANICE

They missed their plane. They were supposed to be back today.

The Roxy Music song has been playing under all this, and it’s building to a climax now. YOUNG TOPHER stands up and begins playing air-guitar, using the rum bottle as the guitar neck.

YOUNG BRENT (repeating after song)

“In every dream home a heartache… ”

YOUNG ERIC

Yeah, and if you get too fucked up and put a foot through my grandparent’s roof, it’ll be my fucking heartache, all right. Topher, what are you doing? YOUNG BRENT

Topher’s higher than Erky.

YOUNG JANICE

Topher, be careful…

The climax of the song comes. TOPHER strides down to the edge of the roof and braces himself, serenading the orchard and surrounding town. He begins to sing, quiet but getting louder, then bellowing the final line:

TOPHER

“Inflatable dolly — dee-luxe and dee-lightful. I blew up your body… but you blew my mind!”

As the guitar solo comes wailing in, TOPHER staggers for a moment on the edge of the roof, air-strumming the bottle. Abruptly, he pitches over the edge and vanishes. After a stunned second:

YOUNG ERIC

Shit! KIMMY (almost crying)

Is he hurt? Is he hurt?

YOUNG ERIC

Topher, man? You all right?

YOUNG TOPHER (weakly; offscreen)

It was all great, except the last little bit. But I think I spilled some of my Bacardi. YOUNG BRENT (relieved)

You are such an asshole, man!

YOUNG ERIC

Are you sure you’re okay?

As ERIC begins climbing down from the roof, TOPHER suddenly sits up.

YOUNG TOPHER

Shit! (fumbles in pockets)

If those fuckers get lost… (finds what he’s looking for)

Ah. Far out.

YOUNG ERIC

Don’t do shit like that, man.

YOUNG TOPHER

I fucking thought I smashed these or something.

YOUNG ERIC

Smashed what?

YOUNG TOPHER

Let’s go in, man, put on some more tunes — I’ll show you. It’s a surprise…

As Roxy Music plays out, we DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. — ERIC’S MOTEL — NIGHT

Just to establish the transition, we see the outside of a mid-grade side-of-the-road motel. We move in on ERIC’S room.

INT. — ERIC’S MOTEL — NIGHT

ADULT ERIC is sleeping. We move in on his face, lips moving a little, hear his voice in a dreaming whisper:

ERIC

Topher, don’t…

CUT TO: Quick FLASH of TOPHER’s distorted current face coming out of shadow, as though it were in ERIC’s room.

ERIC wakes up, gasping, but there’s nothing in the room but a little light from the streetlights leaking through the curtain. ERIC lets his head fall back, then we hear a faint noise. ERIC sits up: he hears it. It’s someone CRYING.

Looking really disturbed, ERIC glances at the digital clock, which reads 3:17. We hear the crying a little louder — a woman’s voice, a hopeless, quiet weeping. ERIC stands up by the bed, turning his head slowly, locating the source of the sound. It’s more upsetting to him than us, because he RECOGNIZES it.

ERIC moves slowly across the dark room toward the bathroom door, which is closed. He slowly leans his head against the door and we hear the crying louder. He looks terrified. The crying gets louder.

ERIC

K-K-Ki… Kimmy?

The crying continues, a little more frightened and miserable now.

ERIC

Kimmy, is… is that you? KIMMY (tiny, whispery voice)

I’m so scared.

ERIC, hands shaking violently, tries the door. It’s locked.