Grace and Adam are alone at their table, not speaking to each other; in their awkward silence, they look estranged.
ADAM (V.O.)
I knew I had to tell Grace everything—not because it felt virtuous to confess, but because it was the right thing to do.
SUPER: FIVE YEARS AGO
EXT. LOGE PEAK CHAIR, ASPEN HIGHLANDS. FLASHBACKS.
The lift line is a little busy: couples ride together; singles pair up. Clara, a distraught mom, gets her way. Toby is paired with Billy; just ahead of them, Clara is a single, about to merge with a short line of singles. Clara and Adam don’t recognize each other until they get on the same chair.
ADAM (V.O.)
Not every confession is the right thing to do—not if you’re just confessing to make yourself feel better.
Clara caroms off a tree, then a rock or two, as she slides down the gully. From Adam’s POV, as the stopped chair sways in the wind, Clara’s motionless body is marked by the bright colors of her ski clothing; the colors stand out against the snow and rocks at the bottom of the ravine.
CLOSE-UP: on Clara’s lifeless face. Strands of her hair, from under her ski hat, blow over her open eyes, staring at the sky. Gentle hands enter frame, tucking Clara’s hair under her hat; careful fingers close her eyelids.
WIDER: kneeling next to Clara is the ghost of a UTE WARRIOR. He stands, looking up at the chairs high above him.
ADAM (V.O.)
I was crazy to imagine I might help Toby, my half brother, by reaching out to him.
On Adam in the windblown chair, looking down at Clara and the ghost. The chairlift starts to move again.
ADAM (V.O.)
How would it help Toby Goode to know his half brother had slept with his mother?
EXT. ENTRANCE, HOTEL JEROME, E. MAIN. AFTER BREAKFAST.
A cowboy doorman is putting Paul Goode’s and Adam’s skis and poles on the Jerome van. Paul is talking nonstop to Adam, but there is NO SOUND. We hear only Adam’s voice-over. The ghost of the hippie girl can’t stop showing her breasts to Paul—only to him—but he doesn’t see her.
ADAM (V.O.)
I had doubts about my confession to my father. How would it help him to know who I was or what had happened? Even the ghost of that hippie girl gave me doubts. When she was alive, she never showed her breasts to me—she just gave me the finger. Now she ignored me, but she showed her boobs to everyone else.
EXT. EXHIBITION LIFT, ASPEN HIGHLANDS. SAME MORNING.
Paul and Adam are on the four-seater chairlift from the base of Aspen Highlands with TWO OTHER SKIERS. Paul is still doing all the talking; we hear only Adam’s voice-over.
ADAM (V.O.)
I let my father talk on the Exhibition quad, a ten-minute ride. I was hoping there would be just the two of us on the new quad to Loge Peak.
ANOTHER ANGLE: on the chair passing over Prospector Gulch.
ADAM (V.O.)
If we were alone on the Loge Peak quad, I would have seven minutes to tell him everything.
EXT. LOGE PEAK QUAD, ASPEN HIGHLANDS. CONTINUOUS.
The lift line is sparse. There’s ONE COUPLE behind Adam and Paul. Adam pretends to have a problem with the binding of one ski, taking the ski off and putting it back on; Adam waves the couple ahead, so that he and Paul get on the next chair by themselves.
CLOSER ON: Adam and his father on the moving chairlift; Adam is the one doing the talking now.
ADAM
I should have told you five years ago, when I slept with your wife. That’s why Clara was so upset I was on the chairlift with her—she’d slept with me the day before. She hated it. She hated herself for doing it. She never wanted to see me again. She couldn’t stand to look at me. It was just an awful coincidence that we ended up on the same chair—we weren’t skiing together. But it was not a coincidence that Clara was upset. Do you see?
Paul Goode listens.
ADAM
I was alone for breakfast when Clara said point-blank she wanted to sleep with me, but she didn’t mean it. I don’t know why she did it—I’m guessing, because of you. She was repelled by what she did. I hated myself for doing it, too. She wasn’t herself when she did it. She wasn’t herself when she saw me again on the chairlift—she was upset, and not thinking clearly, before your son fell. Do you see? What happened wasn’t entirely your fault—it was my fault, too.
A view of the gulch the old two-seater passed over.
ADAM (V.O.)
We were at six minutes when I told him he was my father.
CLOSE ON: Paul’s disbelieving expression.
ADAM (O.C.)
I should have told you before. I should have told your wife you were my father. That might have stopped her, but I didn’t tell her. I haven’t even told my wife that you’re my father.
A WIDER ANGLE: the lift station at the top of Loge Peak. Paul and Adam unload and ski away from the chairlift.
ADAM (V.O.)
Broadway was a blue run. My father had listened to Grace about my limitations as a skier.
CLOSER ON: Paul and Adam stop at the top of Broadway. Adam removes his gloves, taking a photo from his parka pocket.
PAUL GOODE
Why should I believe you?
ADAM
I saved my mother’s photo until we were off the chairlift. I’m sure you’ll recognize her; maybe you’ll remember her ski hat and her sweater.
CLOSE-UP: the black-and-white photo of Adam’s mom, Ray Brewster, in Aspen, March 1941.
ADAM (O.C.)
My last name, Brewster, didn’t ring a bell with you.
PULL BACK: Paul Goode looks away from the photo. He sees Adam wring his hands.
ADAM
My mom was Ray Brewster. She died recently—ovarian cancer. She didn’t want anything from you—she got what she wanted. She wanted me, with no strings attached.
PAUL GOODE
She gave me her ski hat, and her sweater.
ADAM
I know.
PAUL GOODE
(angry)
How can you know? How do you know that?
ADAM
I can’t explain it.
PAUL GOODE
What do you want?
ADAM
Nothing. I just want you to know who I am, and what happened.
PAUL GOODE
(still angry)
Let me see you ski. You first.
Adam pushes off. Camera stays on Paul, watching his son ski.
On Adam, as he stops skiing. Adam watches Paul ski up to him.
PAUL GOODE
There must not be a skier gene. How could Ray Brewster’s kid ski as badly as you do?
ADAM
I tried hard not to learn.
PAUL GOODE
You succeeded, but you have your mother’s hands. Ray was always wringing her hands.
(pushing off)
I’d rather ski with your wife.
ADAM
(calls after him)
I wasn’t giving you the photo!
There’s no point in calling. Paul Goode is quickly gone.
ADAM
(quietly, to himself)
I was just showing you.
INT. THE LAST RUN GYM. MIDDAY.
In the middle of a ski day, the gym is almost empty; the sound of clanking metal rises above the country song that’s wailing. The two trainers are standing together—the muscle-bound man and the ripped woman in a tank top. They look disconcerted by what they’re seeing.
PULL BACK: a barbell, loaded with flat weights, is going up and down—all by itself—over a weight bench.
ANOTHER ANGLE: the lat machine looks like it’s on automatic—an unseen force is doing the pull downs, the weights miraculously rising and falling by themselves.
ADAM (V.O.)
The trainers at the Last Run must be used to it by now. They can’t see Monika or Beth or Nan, but they know when those three downhillers are working out.
CLOSE ON: Adam riding a stationary bike.
ADAM (V.O.)
I was done skiing with my dad at Loge Peak. Grace and Matthew were still skiing at Aspen Mountain when I got back to the Jerome from Aspen Highlands.
A WIDER ANGLE: what Adam sees from his stationary bike. Monika is doing bench presses; Beth is assisting her with the heavy barbell. Nan is the ghost going nuts on the lat machine.