5/35

A slice of family life as seen through the eyes of a child and her dolls.

5/35
by Kyle Patrick Johnson
Represented by:
Canton Literary Management (CLM)
Contact: Eric Canton
(866) 429-3118
ECanton@Prodigy.net
www.CantonLiteraryManagement.com
FADE IN:
EXT. DESERTED PARKING LOT - DAY
A small sedan stutters through the aisles of painted yellow
parking spots. It jerks, stops, starts again.
The sedan goes in wobbly reverse, eases into a parking spot,
a crooked parking job.
The sedan launches forward, straightens, slams to a stop.
Reverses slowly, then sudden speed, flies backwards through
the spot into the next aisle, skids to a halt.
The sedan sits there, stopped. Two vague figures seen inside,
both make wild arm gestures, build in intensity.
The driver’s side door bursts open. SARA HAYES (16), huffing
and puffing and rolling her eyes, stomps out of the car.
SARA
I don’t care! It sucks, you suck.
Sara runs for a nearby busy road, chokes on her tears.
The passenger’s door opens. DOMINIC HAYES (40s) gets out,
leans on the car, chin on roof, gazes at a receding Sara.
He slams the passenger door. Walks around the car, gets
behind the steering wheel, drives after Sara.
EXT. HAYES HOME - DAY
The small sedan eases to a gentle stop in the driveway.
Sara leaps from the passenger’s door, tear-smeared face, runs
to the front door.
INT. HAYES HOME - LIVING ROOM - DAY
Sara dashes through the room, to the kitchen, loud sobs.
SARA
Mommm!
Wide-eyed little MARITA HAYES (5), quiet introvert, in a
corner, plays with a dollhouse and four little dolls: a
daddy, mommy, and two girl dolls.
Dominic enters, full of sighs, heavy heart, heavy feet.
MARITA
When can I learn to drive, Daddy?
Dominic laughs to himself, sarcastic, looks at the kitchen.
DOMINIC
When you’re thirty-five.
Marita examines the daddy doll’s buttons. Thinks.
Dominic throws himself into an armchair, turns on a sports
game on the television.
Marita separates her little doll family: the mommy and daddy
dolls on the dollhouse’s ground floor, two girls upstairs.
CAROLINE HAYES (30s) comes in from kitchen, carries a can of
beer, hands it over the back of the armchair, lowers it like
a UFO into Dominic’s field of view.
Dominic starts, laughs. He opens the beer, takes a sip.
Caroline massages his shoulders.
CAROLINE
She’s pretty upset.
DOMINIC
She wouldn’t be if she ever
listened to me.
CAROLINE
We all have to start somewhere.
MARITA
Daddy?
DOMINIC
She just off and does whatever.
CAROLINE
She learns different than you do.
MARITA
Daddy?
CAROLINE
Just adjust your--
DOMINIC
Adjust my? Gimme a break!
MARITA
Daddy? Am I five, Daddy?
2.
Dominic and Caroline look over at Marita, surprised.
DOMINIC
(child’s voice)
I’s five year old.
Marita, thoughtful. Holds up five fingers to the girl dolls.
Sound of a car starting. Dominic’s eyes flick to the window.
DOMINIC
Oh, no. No, no.
Dominic dashes to the window, spills beer on himself.
DOMINIC’S POV - THROUGH WINDOW
The small sedan, Sara in the front seat, pulls backwards out
of the driveway, shudders to a stop, leapfrogs down the
street.
BACK TO SCENE
Dominic dashes to the door. A cell phone rings.
Marita throws one of the girl dolls into a far corner.
Dominic yanks a cell phone from his pocket, looks at the
screen.
DOMINIC
It’s Sara.
Caroline puts her hand over her mouth.
DOMINIC
(into phone)
Sara! What... Stop crying! I should
call the cops on you... Uh, what?
(long silence)
She did?... Come on home. If she
promised, we’ll make it up to
you... Yes, I mean it. Come on.
Dominic hangs up. An accusing look at Caroline.
DOMINIC
You said she could get a tattoo?
CAROLINE
When she learned to drive.
3.
DOMINIC
You didn’t... a tattoo? Not till
she’s thirty-five! We should’ve
talked it over. We... A tattoo!
The sound of squealing brakes.
DOMINIC’S POV - THROUGH WINDOW
The small sedan jolts a screechy journey into the driveway.
CAROLINE (O.S.)
Well, she is driving.
BACK TO SCENE
Dominic, deep in his rage, startled into laughter. He chokes
on a laugh, splutters, coughs.
Caroline laughs, a joyous end to the conflict.
Sara comes in, red-rimmed eyes, a look of wonder seasoned
with a pinch of teenage distaste at adult humor.
Dominic, doubled over, belly-laughs, waves his arms to Sara,
invites her over.
DOMINIC
Come here, gimme a hug.
MARITA
No.
Marita stands in the corner, tender tears welled up, tiny
hands clenched into sad little fists.
Dominic, shocked.
DOMINIC
It’s okay, honey.
MARITA
No. No.
Marita explodes into body-bursting sobs.
Caroline rushes over, strokes her hair, murmurs, soothes.
MARITA
You... can’t get... a hug... till
you’re... thirty-five.
Dominic drops to a knee in front of Marita, lifts her
quivering chin, looks her in the eye.
4.
DOMINIC
You can get a hug at five...
Dominic hugs her.
DOMINIC
And at six...
Dominic hugs her harder.
DOMINIC
And at seven...
Dominic bear-hugs her, lifts her off the ground. Marita
giggles.
DOMINIC
And at eight...
Dominic throws her in the air. Marita squeals.
Even Sara smiles.
DOMINIC
And nine and ten and eleven...
Dominic tickles her in the air, rolls her up in his arms,
sways back and forth, kisses her hair and face.
DOMINIC
And everywhere in between.
Marita catches her breath. She puts her hands on Dominic’s
face, rubs his bristly five o’clock shadow.
MARITA
I’m hungry.
CAROLINE
Then, by golly, we’d better go out
to eat.
Marita smiles. Dominic carries her to the front door.
Dominic tosses the keys to Sara. Her face brightens, a new
purpose.
The Hayes family goes out the front door, closes it. The
sound of giggles and happiness fades...
The dollhouse family is back together on the ground floor,
embrace each other.
FADE OUT.
5.