“Larry, June, And The Year Of The Cat” — A Screenplay, Part Eight

Posted: February 7, 2013 in Uncategorized

Entire contents trademarked TM  and copyrighted (c) by Ryan Carey, 2013. That means that if you want to reproduce or use this material for any reason, you have to ask me real nice.

CUT TO :

INT. – JUNE’S HOUSE – LATE AFTERNOON

LARRY enters JUNE’s home/studio, where freshly-dusted tables are arranged throughout on her hardwood floors displaying the vases, plates, bowls, mugs, and other, more abstract pieces she has for sale. There is a kitchen area visible through an open doorway off to the side of her retail space, and a stairwell off to another side that leads up to her living quarters on the second floor. JUNE is standing behind a desk handing a credit card and hand-written sales slip to a MAN and a WOMAN who have just purchased one of her works, which is wrapped and boxed on the desk in front of them. As she finishes up with her customers, LARRY nonchalantly browses through her wares.

JUNE (to MAN and WOMAN) : Okay, here’s your Visa card and a receipt. I hope you’ll be very happy with it and do stop in again next time you find yourselves in the area.

WOMAN : Oh, gosh, we sure will, it’s just so — just so lovely, isn’t it, honey?

MAN : If you like it, I like it.

JUNE (jokingly, to MAN and WOMAN) : I like a man that knows how to agree with me. He got a brother?

MAN and WOMAN chuckle and exit the shop.

LARRY continues to browse the shop as JUNE tucks the Visa card slip into an envelope.

LARRY : So this is the place, huh?

JUNE : Be it ever so humble.

LARRY : The cliches come free here, too?

JUNE : Always. So how you been killing the day?

LARRY : Besides counting down the moments to when I’d make my fashionably late arrival?

JUNE : You’re not late, I’m still open another half hour.

LARRY : Another thing I could never quite get the hang of, I guess.

JUNE : Being late? Don’t worry, it was never cool in my book.

LARRY : Had many customers today?

JUNE : Customers, sure. Buyers, not so much.

LARRY : That ever get nerve-wracking? Knowing ya gotta make six more sales in a day to pay yer mortgage or something?

JUNE : Get nerve-wracking? It never stops.

LARRY : Still, it must be working out okay enough. You’ve got a roof over your head and the power’s still on. (pauses, looking around the room)Where’s your wheel?

JUNE : Out in the garage.

LARRY : You park on the street, then?

JUNE : Don’t have a car.

JUNE makes her way out from behind the counter and begins to walk back toward her kitchen while LARRY continues browsing.

JUNE CON’T: So whaddaya think?

LARRY : Your house is sure nice.

JUNE : Fuck the house. My work. Whaddaya think?

LARRY : Well, I’m no expert, but it looks good to me. Like time and effort went into all of it. Not sure what else to say. I honestly don’t know the first thing about pottery.

JUNE : But you’d know if it looked like shit.

LARRY : Well, I hope I would.

LARRY takes notice of the tiled walls around her retail space for the first time, leans in closer to take a look.

LARRY CON’T : Hey, you’ve got blue tiled walls!

JUNE ( from kitchen) : So?

LARRY : Nothing.

LARRY stands back up straight, mumbles to himself

LARRY CON’T (mumbling): Guess you really don’t pay attention to the lyrics.

JUNE (from kitchen) : What was that?

LARRY : Nothing again.

JUNE emerges from the kitchen, holding a bottle of wine and two glasses.

JUNE : Well, if you’re thirsty from all that saying nothing, how about a drink?

LARRY : Wouldn’t say no to that.

JUNE sets the wine bottle on her desk and proceeds to uncork it.

LARRY CON’T : You really don’t have a car?

JUNE : I really don’t have a car.

LARRY : Isn’t that rough in a small town? I mean, there’s no buses, no —

JUNE : We’ve got buses. They come in on the weekends. Fulla seniors.  Ask a lot of questions and never buy a damn thing.

LARRY : Actually, I saw a bunch of ’em when I was eating lunch.

JUNE : Yeah, the coffee shops and cafes love ’em — the artists, not so much.

LARRY : I can believe that.

JUNE : You can believe everything I tell you.

LARRY : Even when you say you’re a liar, like last night?

JUNE : Especially then.

LARRY works his way over to the counter as JUNE fills the glasses.

LARRY : That’s one of those logical conundrum things, isn’t it?

JUNE : Come again?

LARRY : Well, if somebody’s a liar, but they tell the truth about being a liar, are they really a liar after all?

JUNE : Sure they are.

LARRY : How do you figure?

JUNE : Easy. They’re honest about being a liar, so they’re not really a liar at all, so they’re lying when they say they’re a liar. Which makes them a liar.

LARRY : So — if there’s, say, an otherwise honest man who says he’s not honest but isn’t being truthful about being dishonest — he’d be a liar.

JUNE : Sure. Lie once and you’re done. (pauses, smiling) Even if your lie is about being a liar when you’re not. Because from then on you are.

JUNE pours the wine into the glasses, offers one to LARRY from across the desk.

LARRY : Your logic’s confusing, but makes sense.

JUNE : Kinda like your little — what did you call it — “conundrum”?

LARRY : Yup.

LARRY takes the wine glass, has a sip.

LARRY : Boss doesn’t mind you drinkin’ on the job?

JUNE : Never thought to ask her.

JUNE CON’T (to herself) : Gee, boss, ya mind if I drink on the job?

JUNE CON’T (in reply to herself) : Nope.

JUNE (to LARRY) : There’s your answer.

LARRY : Lucky for you. I had a few that did back in my reckless, misspent youth. (pauses for a sip of wine) Speaking of which — any kids?

JUNE hands LARRY a framed picture on her desk. The picture is of her with a young boy, about 14 or 15, obviously from a few years ago.

JUNE : That’s my Georgie.

LARRY : He’s a teenager?

JUNE : Was.

LARRY : They grow up fast, huh? Guess it does look a bit dated.

LARRY hands the picture back to JUNE.

JUNE : That your polite way of saying I look younger in it?

LARRY : I guess if that’s how you wanna take it. I dunno. Wasn’t thinking. Just talking.

JUNE : No harm in that. It’s all we’re doing here, right? Just talking.

JUNE, sipping her wine, steps out from behind her desk. LARRY points around the room to all her work.

LARRY : So which one’s your favorite?

JUNE : Hard to say. Sometimes you have to separate the work from the time when you made it.

JUNE walks over to a table and picks up a plate.

JUNE CON’T : Like this. I mean, it’s perfect. One of the best things I’ve done —

JUNE hands the plate to LARRY.

JUNE CON’T : Seriously, it’s  pretty much flawless. But I was dealing with some bullshit in my life at the time so I sometimes can’t stand the sight of it. I can’t look at it without remembering what was going on back then.

LARRY hands the plate back to JUNE.

LARRY : I’ve written some songs in my time, I know what you’re talkin’ about.

JUNE positions the plate back on its display stand. LARRY and JUNE continue walking around the room as they converse.

JUNE : You know the damn thing though? First off I priced that thing too high to sell even though you’d think I’d be glad to get rid of it. (pauses for a sip of wine) Secondly, there’s been four or five times people have wanted to buy it anyway, and I’ve said no every time.

LARRY : Don’t wanna let go of whatever it was you were going through?

JUNE : I actually fucking hate that expression.  You let go of something once it’s over whether you want to or not. What I’m clinging to is the memories. Even though they suck.

LARRY sips his wine.

LARRY : What expression are we talkin’ about?

JUNE : “Can’t let go.” Sure you can. It was never yours. The moment, the feeling, the whatever you’re talking about — it’s gone as soon as it’s gone. You’re not letting go, it’s being taken from you. Or going its own way. It’s only memories we cling to, not actual events. You can’t stop time.

LARRY : Never thought of it that way. (pauses for a sip of wine) So what’s a memory, then?

JUNE : On paper, memories shouldn’t be worth shit. It’s out own subjective interpretation of the way something played out. It’s got nothing more to do with reality than — I dunno — a TV show.

JUNE sips her wine.

LARRY : Except we were in it.

JUNE : Ever seen yourself on TV?

LARRY : Can’t say as I have.

JUNE : It’s not pretty.

JUNE takes another , larger sip of wine.

JUNE CON’T : So what time you work your magic tonight, 8:00?

LARRY : Yeah. Should try to be there by 7:30.

JUNE : I’m about to lock up and I gotta do the books for the day and stuff. Doesn’t leave us enough time for dinner.

LARRY : Knew I was gonna ask, huh?

JUNE (semi-sarcastically) : You’d be crazy not to, wouldn’t you?

LARRY takes another sip of wine.

LARRY : That I would, that I would. Well, you gonna come by the bar tonight?

JUNE : Wasn’t planning on it. If you didn’t show up here today I might’a stopped by to tell you what an asshole you were and have a drink, but since you did —

LARRY : Your obligation to me is met?

JUNE finishes her wine, sets the empty glass down on the display table they’re standing beside.

JUNE : Damn — you showed up, but maybe you’re still an asshole anyway.

LARRY : I deserved that. Honestly couldn’t think of anything else to say.

JUNE (mildly exasperated) : Then why say anything? I mean, seriously — what’s the matter with a little bit of silence once in awhile? And it’s not just you. I mean people in general. They’ve got that other old expression I hate — “uncomfortable silence.” What’s so uncomfortable about it? Sometimes I like people better when their mouths are shut.

LARRY and JUNE stand in silence for a few moments, LARRY obviously afraid to speak, JUNE breathing in and out rather deeply. JUNE finally speaks first.

JUNE (slowly, pausing between words) : Just. (pause) Like. (pause) That.

JUNE CON’T (in normal speaking voice) : Now there, I ask you — was that so bad?

LARRY (somewhat nervously) : No, I mean — no. It really wasn’t.

JUNE : Sometimes I just like to stop and take in life for a second. Sound pretentious?

LARRY : Nah. Sounds okay to me. I should probably do more of it.

JUNE : It helps. It really helps.

LARRY : Helps with —?

JUNE : Living. To stop everything and just  feel life. It helps with living, ya know?

LARRY finishes his wine, sets it down on the display table.

LARRY : Hope that won’t leave like a ring or something.

JUNE : I’ve got plenty of cleaning shit, relax.

LARRY : I’m trying.

JUNE : Maybe that’s your problem. You’re trying. Stop trying and see what happens.

They stand in silence again for a few moments, somewhat more comfortable this time, although LARRY starts to get a bit fidgety and begins tapping his toe his toe.

JUNE (grinning) : You’re doing okay, kiddo. Try even less and who knows how far you’ll get?

LARRY : I’ll try — not to try.

JUNE : Can’t ask for more than that. Let’ cut this off on a high note, shall we?

LARRY : Sure, I just —

LARRY runs his fingers through his hair, again somewhat nervously.

JUNE : Spit it out.

LARRY : Well, if you’re not coming by the bar tonight, how about dinner tomorrow? What time do you lock up here on a Sunday?

JUNE : 5:00. What time’s Nestor throw your ass to the curb?

LARRY : 11:00. (pauses) But shit, I killed a day here before.

JUNE : Okay — if you can make it to 5:00 without dying of boredom, come on by (pauses, smiles). I’d even  — gasp! — look forward to it. You’re not worried about driving back to the Cities so late?

LARRY slowly walks toward the door to leave.

LARRY : I’m 53, not 73. My night vision’s still fine. Anyway,  you just made my day.

JUNE : Damn, thought I’d done that already when I invited you over here.

LARRY : Well, okay, yeah, but — (long pause) I meant you made my day tomorrow, too?

JUNE : How about this —I made your day yesterday when I told you to stop by today, and I made your day today when I said I’d have dinner with you tomorrow. That way I’ve got three days covered on two days’ work.

LARRY : Sounds good. (pauses) Except you invited me over today at like one in the morning last night, so that’s still today. Technically.

JUNE (grinning): Whatever. Go get ready for work.

LARRY : See you tomorrow night.

LARRY waves goodbye and steps out the door, again making sure to close it slowly  and carefully behind him.

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