Como Un Jueves De Verano

Abrí la puerta mientras la voz desgarradora de Townes Van Zandt se encargaba de infiltrarse en mi sistema. La música y su voz me poseían por una extraña ruta que incluía un reproductor-de-música-digital-cuyo-funcionamiento-me-sería-imposible-explicar, cables, finos recubrimientos de plástico y auriculares.

"Her face was crystal
Fair and fine
Her breath was morning
Her lips were wine
Her eyes were laughter
Her touch divine
Her face was crystal
And she was mine"

Los espacios que veía me eran tan foráneos. ¿Has tenido alguna vez esa extraña sensación de que todo lo que debería ser tan familiar se vuelve de repente, sin aviso alguno, tan desconocido? Había en el ambiente un fino olor a guiso. -el guiso que ella hacía y cuyo aroma me recordaba lo fácil que es llorar por una ausencia que puedes oler.

Los ojos se embriagan de esos lugares que solíamos compartir. Esos mismos lugares que se sienten tan extraños por sin ella. Es tan jodidamente intolerable una ausencia que te restriega en la cara su inexorable recuerdo. Pero no la escucho. La puedo oler, la puedo imaginar como un fantasma que me acompaña en mis desvelos y excesos. Ese fantasma hermoso que vigila hasta los pensamientos más turbios y los más bellos que puedan detonar eléctricamente en mi cerebro.

"If only she
Could hear my songs
'bout the empty difference
'tween the rights and wrongs
Then I know that I
Could stand alone
As well as they
Now that she's gone"

Pero no la puedo oír. Veo la pasta de dientes destapada a un lado del lavabo. Esa jodida pasta que provoca un caos que ella convertía en orden. Casi instintivamente miro al espejo esperando verla reflejada, y ansío escuchar sus regaños por no tapar la maldita pasta -esos regaños que me ahogaban en invierno y me ponen nostálgico en verano.

"So like a summer Thursday
I cry for rain
To come and turn
The ground to green again"

Mi guitarra me observa, olvidada, triste, desgarrada.

La estufa se siente abandonada, inútil, jubilada.

Los cigarros, confundidos, no hayan lógica a su vida prolongada.

La casa deviene en limbo cuando el alma que la hacía habitable emprende la retirada.

Y mientras bebo y escribo, Townes Van Zandt con su "Like A Summer Thursday" te deja una daga en el corazón clavada.

Before & After

B E F O R E
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FADE IN:

INT. LAURA’S HOUSE - BEDROOM - NIGHT
The room is a total mess.
An ashtray filled with cigarette butts sits on the bedside table, next to a a bottle of prescription medication.
The cigarette butts have lipstick strains on them.
A photo of LAURA (29,) elegant, with sadness hiding behind a smile and JOSH (4) full of life, with shiny eyes and a wide, pure smile.

Dressed in a black suit, pale and well groomed, FRANK (30) sits in a chair, holding a toy car.
The phone suddenly RINGS and He scans the room from one side to the other.
He stares at the picture on the bedside table, gets up, sets down the car and retrieves it.
The phone keeps RINGING.
A BEEP as the answering machine picks up.

LAURA
(filtered)
Hi, you’re calling Laura McKenzie.
I’m not home right now, please--

Frank turns the machine off. He looks at the LCD screen on the phone.

“3 MESSAGES; 0 NEW”

Frank takes his finger to the PLAY button. He hesitates.

He opens a drawer of the bedside table and takes out a wedding ring. He then looks at the wedding ring on his finger.
Frank goes back to the answering machine and pushes PLAY.

MACHINE
(filtered)
Message one. November 20th, 1 PM.

FRANK (V.O.)
(filtered)
Hey. I know you probably don’t want to hear from me so soon.
(beat)
Maybe it’s a good thing the machine answered... right?

He puts the new photo on the bedside table, then puts old one in the drawer.

FRANK (V.O.) (CONT’D)
(filtered)
How’s Josh doing? I miss you both.
I’m trying, Laura.

Frank arranges the messed up bed.
He throws out the ashtray, complete with the cigarette butts, then the pills.

FRANK (V.O.) (CONT’D)
(filtered)
Lots of resumes, no callbacks...
I feel I’m in a limbo here.

He goes to a big mirror at the dresser and looks at himself.

FRANK (V.O.) (CONT’D)
(filtered)
I’ll go now. Please call me back...
I miss you.

BEEP.
A noose hangs from the ceiling.

CUT TO:

INT. BEDROOM - DAY
Laura lies on the bed, perfectly still and looking into the camera.

CUT TO:

INT. BEDROOM - DAY
Josh’s toy car sliding slowly on the floor. A faint child’s voice making ENGINE SOUNDS.

CUT TO:

INT. BEDROOM - DAY
Frank stares at the wall. Photos.

MACHINE
(filtered)
Message 2. November 24th, 2:15 PM.

Frank’s hands subtly shake. He leaves the room.

FRANK (V.O.)
(filtered)
Hey.
(beat)
I’m on my way to an interview...
A big company.

Frank returns with a chair.
He looks around.

FRANK (CONT’D)
They said they value a young,
committed man like me.

He sets the chair down on the floor under the noose.

FRANK (V.O.) (CONT’D)
(filtered)
I will make things right.

Frank sits on the bed and arranges his tie.

FRANK (V.O.) (CONT’D)
(filtered)
Anyway, I just wanted you to wish me luck.
Call me when you get this.

BEEP.

CUT TO:

INT. BEDROOM - DAY
Laura on the bed, staring straight ahead.

CUT TO:

INT. BEDROOM - DAY
Josh’s toy car. It’s steady on the floor.
The light dims.

CUT TO:

INT. BEDROOM - DAY
Frank Shakes the image from his mind.
He stands and leaves the room again.

MACHINE
(filtered)
Message 3. November 28th, 4 PM.

The room is still and spotless.

FRANK (V.O.)
(filtered)
I need you.

Frank enters the room.
He’s carrying a body completely wrapped in linens.

FRANK (V.O.) (CONT’D)
(filtered)
You and Josh...

Frank puts it on the bed.
He leaves again.

FRANK (V.O.) (CONT’D)
(filtered)
I think I can...
I’m ready to look after you.
(beat)
We’re supposed to be together.

A faint CHILD’S LAUGH...

FRANK (V.O.) (CONT’D)
(filtered)
I want you to know...

Frank returns, carrying a much smaller body, wrapped in linens.
He carries it to the bed.
The toy car sits alone on the bedside table.

CUT TO:
INT. BEDROOM - DAY
Laura on the bed... Dead and bloody.

CUT TO:
INT. BEDROOM - DAY
Frank sets the small body down next to the large one.

FRANK (V.O.)
(filtered)
I love You.

Frank grabs the picture from the bedside table and sets it on top of the bodies.

FRANK (V.O.) (CONT’D)
(filtered)
See you soon.

He stares straight ahead into the camera. Eyes cold and empty, void of life. He blinks.
BEEP--

MACHINE
(filtered)
End of messages.

FADE TO BLACK.

THE END.

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A F T E R
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NOTA:
Se agradecería feedback positivo, negativo, etc. Utilicen los comments de blogger, o los de youtube. Cualquier comentario me ayudaría mucho a crecer como guionista y realizador.

Detour-ish (A Teaser)

INT. HOTEL ROOM - BATHROOM - NIGHT

The ash tray is filled with ashes and two cigarette butts. Laura puts her lit cigarette on the ash tray. She’s looking at herself on the mirror. She grabs her tit and releases it and watches how it hangs down. She looks at her ass, her big ass. She then touches her thigh and blows the smoke on the cellulite. She’s sad.

Eddie is BANGING at the door, telling her that it’s ok, they should go back to the bar and have some more drinks.

INT. HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT

Eddie is sitting on the edge of the bed, in his briefs, having wine. Laura steps out of the bathroom, looking far sexier and “younger.” She grabs her purse, and steps out of the room.

EXT. DOCK - NIGHT

Tomás and Tambor are setting up the little boat to leave the island. They are carefully putting the instruments in the boat. Tomás asks Tambor about Piojo. He answers that he hasn’t seen him in a while, that maybe he had to go jerk it off. Tomás laughs.

Tambor asks him if he saw the beautiful gringa that was sitting near the stage. Tomás nods, and mocks him about his lack of skill to handle a woman like that. Speaking of the devil, Tambor points to the beach. It’s Laura, lighting a cigarette.

EXT. BEACH - NIGHT

Laura shakily lights her cigarette. She SOBS. She represses a deep anger, an old sorrow. She just SOBS. She can’t cry. Tomás gently asks if she’s OK, if he can help her in anyway.

Laura is shocked. She thought she was alone. She’s embarrassed. She flees. Tomás asks her again if everything’s all right.

No answer.

...