The Life You Choose and That Chose You
Page 17
‘He was up on the roof painting the chimney, my papa, and Ma had to yell into the fireplace for ten whole minutes after her waters broke before he heard.’ I paused and was invited by nods and eyebrow waggles to continue. This is always important.
‘He twisted his ankle clattering down the ladder, so he missed my entrance into the world, all caught up getting himself bandaged in the hospital corridor.’
There was some chuckling. I always take a deep breath at this point and check the listeners. There are those who gaze wistfully, those who love to cringe and those who hate to hear about body parts.
‘My ma shrieked when I came hurtling out of her, all bloody and hairy. She told me later that I'd ripped off a piece of her labia in my exit, and held it tight in a grip that was astounding for fingers so tiny.’
People guffawed and I enjoyed it, but the night was too balmy, the air too sweet. I was a scrabbling mammal, too hot in its wheel. I slipped past my little audience and down to the back of the yard. Over the fence there was a dog whining; lights were beginning to come on in other people's homes.
City folk think that coming from the country means you love the feel of wind in your hair and that you've ridden a tractor and shot enough animals to need at least two hands to count all the bodies. Country folk think that when you move to the city you are disappointing and unoriginal. Or that you are only ever coming back. Like elastic.
I watched the sky for long enough to punctuate that claustrophobic night-moment, then blithely excused myself. I picked my way carefully around the side of the house and took some small joy in hauling my bike out the gate to the sounds of people asking, ‘Oh, are you leaving already? That's a shame.’
I got almost all the way home, a block away, before I stopped and threw up in a murraya hedge. I really did have a substantial welt across my back from the coathanger beating, and my Hi-Vis vest was irritating it after the sweaty ride. Once inside I took my shirt off, rubbed calendula into my shoulders and sipped my tea while lying on my belly. I listened to my next-door neighbours grooving to Marvin Gaye, and considered how my stories achieve the same end as a slight-fingered hand on the lower back; to give a shiver, to keep a distance.
Imagining my neighbours swaying and holding each other through the thin wall, I turned to the memory of my scar again. When Josephine minded me as a child, she would let me stay up later than I had ever been allowed, and would applaud my pantomiming tea-towel inventions as they floated on the end of a broom. I hold that memory at arm's length, but I won't eschew it.
I used to be a picture of manic tenderness, in miniature. Now I sit still at clement social gatherings, pick my scabs, and tell lies about my mother.
1. EXT. McEVOY HOUSE—DUSK—PRESENT
A freestanding house in a leafy suburb. It's surrounded by a well-established garden. Wind blows through the leaves of a jacaranda tree.
Silence is broken by the sound of glass shattering and falling to the ground. A siren wails. The sound is piercing. A blue alarm on the front of the house flashes. A cat hurtles across the front lawn.
FADE TO BLACK
SUPERIMPOSE: ‘NINE HOURS EARLIER’
2. INT. McEVOY KITCHEN—MORNING
It's 1987 and this kitchen is entirely fitted out with slate and black lacquered cabinets. DAVID McEVOY, mid forties, a barrister with a thinning mane of once luxuriant hair, sits at the breakfast table wrestling a broadsheet.
Engrossed in a toy-shop catalogue, ZOE McEVOY, 8, sits opposite him before an enormous bowl of Coco Pops, left untouched.
Swanning around in the background is MARNIE BENNET, 32. Tanned skin and eyes as black as Kalamata olives, she's dressed in a Qantas flight attendant's uniform.
David looks up from his paper at a clock on the wall.
DAVID
Where's Sean?
MARNIE
He says he's got the flu.
DAVID
Again?
ZOE
Pfft.
3. INT. SEAN'S BEDROOM—MORNING
SEAN McEVOY, 12, is 80 per cent good looks and twenty per cent hair gel. His bedroom has an unlived-in quality. Its blue walls are bare except for a third place ribbon and a poster of the Guns N’ Roses album, Lies.
Surrounded by schoolbooks, Sean sits at his desk tracing a black and white picture of a naked woman from a photography book.
DAVID (O/S) (bellows)
Seany!
Sean hurriedly hides his nude drawing under a book. He gets up and inspects himself in the mirror. He looks diligently wan.
4. INT. KITCHEN—MORNING
Sean shuffles into the kitchen. His tie is undone and his blue school shirt is untucked and partially unbuttoned.
DAVID
Sick again?
Sean nods pathetically.
SEAN
It's my glands. Hurts to swallow.
Sean massages his throat.
ZOE
You're so full of it.
David puts his hand on Sean's forehead and gazes off into the middle distance. He puts a hand to his own forehead to compare. He has no real idea what he's doing.
DAVID
Your mother will kill us if you have
another day off.
Marnie lifts a spitting percolator off the stove and smiles at Sean.
MARNIE
He's not even in high school yet. What's a
day home going to do?
David looks at Marnie then across to Sean. He is sceptical.
DAVID
You're always getting sick when you're with us.
ZOE
He's a liar.
David shoots Zoe a reproachful look then looks back at Sean.
DAVID
Seany, look me in the eye, old son. You're
honestly sick? Too sick for school?
Sean looks meekly at his dad and nods.
SEAN
I think I need to stay home. Rest up.
DAVID
Well, make sure you do. No TV. And no videos.
David kisses Sean on the forehead.
FADE TO BLACK
TITLE: ‘LITTLE LIES’
5. INT. LOUNGE ROOM—DAY
Sean does skateboard tricks on an expensive looking Persian carpet.
CUT TO
A clock on the wall reads 10.58.
In the background we hear the cacophony of Sean on his board.
The time lapses to 11.45.
6. INT. DAVID AND MARNIE'S BEDROOM—DAY
Sweaty and dishevelled, Sean stands at the threshold of the bedroom.
CUT TO
Sean opens a drawer of the bedside table.
Inside there's a pair of reading glasses, a blister pack of tablets, a book about World War I, some nose drops and ear plugs.
At the bottom of a pile of papers he finds a photograph of David standing with his arm around a blonde woman holding a baby. They're super-tanned. A very young Sean stands next to them with his tongue out.
Sean picks up the photo and looks at it for a while. He pockets it and shuts the drawer.
CUT TO
Sean, on his hands and knees, is looking under the bed. There's a packet of cigarettes. He takes it.
7. INT. DAVID AND MARNIE'S EN SUITE BATHROOM—DAY
Sean goes through the bathroom cupboards. He removes the lid from a bottle of perfume and sniffs the nozzle. He finds a can of mousse and applies a prodigious quantity through his hair. Some run-off gathers behind his ears.
He picks up a packet of tampons, reads the side, gets one out, looks at it.
He puts a cigarette in his mouth and admires himself in the mirror.
8. INT. MARNIE'S WARDROBE—DAY
Sean stands at the threshold of a walk-in wardrobe. Framed by sunlight, his hair is slicked back and an unlit cigarette dangles from his lips.
He flicks through a rack of dresses before turning his attention to a tower of drawers.
Opening one of the drawers, he finds a sea of bras and underwear. Rummaging a
round he finds an old photograph of Marnie on holiday with a girlfriend. Poolside and wearing bikinis, they smile over drinks with umbrellas in them. Sean pockets it.
He picks up a black bra and fumbles with the clasp.
He picks out a pair of high-waisted black lace knickers and holds them up for closer inspection.
9. INT. LOUNGE ROOM—DAY
The clock on the wall says 1.33.
Sean stands on a dining chair in front of a vast floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. He removes a hardcover photography book and leafs idly through the pages before returning it to the shelf. He grabs another book, flicks through, and then puts it back.
Scanning the shelves, he eventually pulls out a volume called The Lost Tribes of North Africa.
He flicks through it purposefully, pausing at photographs of naked tribeswomen.
10. INT. DAVID AND MARNIE'S BEDROOM—DAY
Sean lies on the bed poring over The Lost Tribes of North Africa. Marnie's bra and underwear sit beside him. He lingers on a page, utterly fascinated.
11. INT. LOUNGE ROOM—DAY
The clock on the wall reads 3.43. A telephone starts ringing in the background.
12. INT. BEDROOM—DAY—CONTINUOUS
A telephone rings on the bedside table. Sean is alseep face down on the bed, drool pooling on the sheets. He slowly opens his eyes. In another room an answering machine picks up the call.
DAVID (O/S)
Hi, you've reached David and Marnie…
ZOE (O/S)
And Zoe and Sean!
DAVID AND ZOE (O/S)
We can't take your call right now so leave a message.
DAVID (O/S)
Seany, it's me. How you getting on? I'll be home early tonight. Let me know what you want for dinner.
Sean rolls onto his back and gazes up at the ceiling.
SEAN'S POV—ORNATE PLASTERWORK OF CEILING
His attention eventually settles on a manhole in the corner. Sean stares at it for a while, then lifts himself off the bed, walks across the room and gazes up at it.
He leaves the room and returns a moment later with a broom. Using the handle, he lifts the panel and pushes the manhole to the side.
A number of VHS tapes tumble out of the roof space. They fall heavily to the floor. One glances off Sean's head. He picks it up and reads the spine—Insatiable.
13. INT. LOUNGE ROOM—DAY
Sean kneels before a giant eighties-era TV.
He presses the power button on the VCR. The screen turns an electric blue. Bathing in the neon glow, Sean loads Insatiable into the mouth of the VCR.
It whirs into action, swallowing the tape, setting off a series of cogs and spools.
The film starts mid-scene. A man walks over to a bed. We see the screen reflected in Sean's wide eyes, the colours playing over his face. He's utterly agog.
Back on the TV screen, the man takes off his shirt, climbs onto the bed and heads towards…
Another shirtless man.
Sean presses fast-forward.
We see the two men kiss and fumble around.
Sean quickly reaches over to press the eject button.
A motor hums, cogs whirl and there's a loud clicking sound.
No tape comes out.
The screen is frozen on a shot of the two men kissing.
Horrified, Sean presses eject a second time. Nothing.
He presses eject repeatedly but the tape remains trapped in the VCR, the heated kiss jitters on the screen.
The phone rings. Sean lets the answering machine pick it up.
DAVID (O/S)
Just leaving now, so I'll be home soon.
I'll get you some soup on the way.
Panicking, Sean switches off the power at the wall.
Mercifully, the screen blinks off to black. The clock on the wall reads 4.55.
He switches the power on again, waits for the VCR to power up and presses eject again. Nothing. The clock ticks over to 5.01.
He pushes the window at the mouth of the VCR and peers into the machine. The Insatiable label is clearly visible.
14. INT. KITCHEN—DAY—CONTINUOUS
A cutlery drawer opens violently. Sean grabs a butter knife and slams the drawer shut.
15. INT. LOUNGE ROOM—DAY—CONTINUOUS
Sean sticks the butter knife through the VCR window and under the tape, attempting to pry it out. The plastic lip of the VCR bends with the force. We hear an ominous crack, but still no tape is ejected.
Sean looks up at the clock on the wall. It is 5.10.
He picks up the VCR, turns it over and looks for screws.
He finds a pair of small Phillips head screws riveted into the metal casing.
16. INT. GARAGE—DAY—CONTINUOUS
Sean rifles through a toolbox until he finds a Phillips head screwdriver.
17. INT. LOUNGE ROOM. DAY—CONTINUOUS
Sean hurriedly unscrews a screw from the base of the VCR. It's impossibly long. It takes forever.
He looks up at the clock. It reads 5.21.
The screw drops out of the casing.
Sean picks up the VCR by the sides and tries to shimmy the casing off.
Nothing happens. He shakes it harder. It's no good. It's stuck solid.
Sean looks at the clock. It is 5.30. He stands up in a panic and picks up the VCR.
He looks around the room wildly.
Breathing heavily, he stares out into the darkening evening through a set of glass doors. He looks at the machine in his arms. He looks out the glass doors. He watches the wind blowing through the leaves of the jacaranda.
18. INT. CAR—DUSK—PRESENT
David turns his car into the driveway of the house. A blue light flashes silently on the wall above the front door. A police car is parked up ahead, near the garage.
DAVID
What the fuck?
19. INT. LOUNGE ROOM. DUSK—CONTINUOUS
Sean sits on the couch opposite CONSTABLE CROZIER. Crozier, 29, is built solidly with jowls like a bulldog. One of the glass doors is smashed. There's glass across the patio.
SERGEANT TAN inspects the damage. Tan is part Chinese and in his thirties. He has an inscrutable face and speaks with a broad Australian accent.
David bursts into the living room carrying a bag of takeaway.
DAVID
What happened?
Sean doesn't look at him.
CONSTABLE CROZIER
Place was broken into, sir. Home invasion.
DAVID
Jesus. When?
CONSTABLE CROZIER
Approximately five-thirty. Little bloke here caught them at it. Scared them off. You're his dad?
David nods. He looks around the room at the broken glass doors and the vacant shelf below the TV, where the VCR once sat.
DAVID
Yes. David. David McEvoy.
David offers Constable Crozier his hand. Sean watches them shake and turns away.
CONSTABLE CROZIER
Constable Crozier. This is Sergeant Tan.
David nods at Sergeant Tan then looks at Sean.
DAVID
You okay, matey?
Sean stares at the floor.
SEAN
They took the video.
CONSTABLE CROZIER
The area's had a lot of break-ins recently.
DAVID
Did you see who it was, Sean?
Sean looks at Constable Crozier, the sergeant, and then his dad. They stare back at him.
DAVID (CONT)
It's important, Seany. Tell the truth.
SEAN
Yeah, I…did.
CONSTABLE CROZIER
Reckon you can describe them?
Sean looks up and catches his dad's eye. David nods and Sean quickly looks away. After a long pause he begins to speak.
SEAN
He was…pretty young. Um, brown hair.
Not very big…
CONSTABLE CROZIER
Was he as tall as me?
&nbs
p; SEAN
Sort of more…my height.
CONSTABLE CROZIER
Remember what he was wearing?
SEAN
Um…a shirt.
Sean looks at his dad again and hesitates.
DAVID
Good boy. Keep going.
SEAN
A blue one.
CONSTABLE CROZIER
Dark blue or light blue?
SEAN
Light blue.
CONSTABLE CROZIER
Right.
SEAN
Like this one.
Sean points at the shirt he's wearing.
CONSTABLE CROZIER
Right…I see.
Sergeant Tan looks up from the small notebook he's been writing in.
SERGEANT TAN
So the suspect's a young male. Around five-foot tall. Brown hair, like yours. Blue shirt, like yours…
He looks hard at Sean.
SERGEANT TAN (CONT)
He wasn't wearing grey pants by any chance?
Sean looks down at his grey school pants. He looks his dad in the eye.
SEAN
He was. Definitely.
Sean keeps looking at his dad. There's a long pause while Sergeant Tan writes in his notebook. David and Constable Crozier look at Sean.
SERGEANT TAN
Well that description pretty much matches our fella. Bloke's been working the area all month. Lucky you scared him. You got off lighter than most.
Sean looks up, shocked.
SERGEANT TAN (CONT)
Got yourself a brave little bugger there, Mr McEvoy.
David rests his hands on Sean's shoulders. Sean flinches.
DAVID
He doesn't get it from me, that's for sure. I'd have hidden under the bed.
Sean looks up at him, ashen-faced.
20. INT. SEAN'S BEDROOM—DUSK—CONTINUOUS
We see the VCR lying under Sean's bed, messily bundled up in a bath towel.
SUPERIMPOSE: THE END
Eva was awake, fixed on the idea of how the party would be. She had been thinking about it for several weeks and wondering what feelings might arise in her heart when the day arrived. She sat up in her bed knowing there were still several hours before she could get ready. She cast her eyes towards the window. The morning seemed dull outside the frostbitten glass. A fly was on the sill and at strange intervals it climbed the tall narrow pane, returning to a spot where the glass was clearest. There it buzzed riotously before dropping again to the dark wood and slipping back into silence.