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Vapors: The Essential G. Wayne Miller Fiction Vol. 2

Page 20

by G. Wayne Miller


  Ben’s Jeep and Stephanie’s BMW are in the driveway.

  STEPHANIE

  Promise me you’ll be OK?

  BEN

  I promise. Promise you will, too?

  STEPHANIE

  I love you, Ben.

  BEN

  I love you, Steph.

  After hugging, they drive their separate ways.

  EXT. OLD HARBOR, BLOCK ISLAND - THAT EVENING

  With sunset near, Ben drives off the ferry — only to find Serena in her Mustang. She is on the passenger side, a manila envelope in her lap.

  SERENA

  Would it help if I said I’m sorry about your dad?

  BEN

  You’d be lying.

  SERENA

  You’re better off now, Ben. I know that seems harsh, but it’s true.

  BEN

  Did you come here to lecture me?

  SERENA

  I came to thank you for these. In my wildest dreams,

  I couldn’t have hoped for anything better.

  Serena pulls photographs from the envelope.

  CLOSE ON: PHOTOGRAPHS IN SERENA’S HANDS

  SERENA

  This one especially.

  CLOSE ON: SWIMSUIT SHOT FROM RECENT SHOOT

  BEN

  How’d you get those?

  SERENA

  Your studio door was unlocked again. You must be getting careless. But there you go again with details.

  (a beat)

  I brought you a present. Does this bring back any memories?

  We see a cooler at Serena’s feet. Serena opens it and takes out a bottle of champagne.

  FLASHBACK

  EXT. BLOCK ISLAND - NIGHT

  Young Ben and Serena are celebrating their one-month anniversary. They are driving the Mustang wildly around the island, trading swigs from a bottle of champagne.

  END FLASHBACK

  EXT. OLD HARBOR, BLOCK ISLAND - EVENING

  Serena and Ben, again. Serena hands the car keys to Ben.

  SERENA

  Drive.

  Ben gets in. As they race off, Serena uncorks the champagne.

  EXT. SUMMER HOUSE - LATE EVENING

  The sun has set and the last color is draining from the sky. The lights are on in the summer place.

  INT. SUMMER HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - LATE EVENING

  The windows are open to the sound of SURF. Serena has set up her decanter of absinthe and two glasses.

  Ben is standing at the wall, taking down most of the photographs of his father and packing them in a box. Among the few photos Ben leaves up are those of his own wedding and reception. He does not touch — yet — any of Houghtie’s trophies, the mounted fish, or the glass-encased model ship Ben made in the eighth grade.

  Serena watches with great interest.

  BEN

  Photographs say so much about a person. And they say nothing at all. The lying truth, I call them.

  SERENA

  What will you do with them?

  BEN

  Carol will take them.

  SERENA

  The walls look so bare now.

  BEN

  They won’t for long. Tomorrow, I’m hanging my own work.

  SERENA

  You could start with this.

  Serena hands Ben a photograph from a manila envelope.

  INSERT - PHOTO FROM RECENT SHOOT - SERENA TOPLESS

  SERENA

  Or this.

  She hands Ben another photograph.

  INSERT - PHOTO FROM RECENT SHOOT - BEN AND SERENA TOGETHER

  SERENA

  It’s your finest work. And I don’t say that because I’m the subject. The light, the composition, the feel — you really have become an artist. You belong in a Manhattan gallery.

  But Ben’s thoughts are somewhere else.

  BEN

  I don’t get it.

  SERENA

  Don’t get what?

  BEN

  I made another set of prints, from some old negatives I had.

  SERENA

  What are they of?

  BEN

  You. From the summer we met.

  SERENA

  I’m flattered that you saved them.

  BEN

  I wanted to see if I really remembered what you looked like 17 years ago. I did. The old shots were identical to last week’s. Identical. You’d need the FBI to tell them apart.

  SERENA

  Is this your idea of a compliment?

  BEN

  No one looks the same after almost 20 years, Serena. It’s biologically impossible.

  SERENA

  I already told you: I take good care of myself. No sun, a good diet, plenty of sleep, lots and lots of exercise — you’d be surprised what living right will do for you.

  BEN

  But you haven’t aged. It’s like you came out of a time machine.

  SERENA

  I thought men your age would do anything for a younger woman.

  BEN

  But you haven’t aged.

  Serena takes the photographs from Ben, casts them aside, puts her arms around him, and brings his face to hers.

  SERENA

  You’re still hung up on the details, still trying to analyze and explain. You men with your logic. Why can’t you just accept what is and go with it?

  BEN

  Because I don’t know what this is.

  Serena breaks the embrace and crosses the living room to the door to the oceanfront porch. She stops and looks back at Ben. There is the sound of POUNDING SURF, louder than before.

  SERENA

  I’m going for a swim. Will you join me?

  Before Ben can answer, Serena is gone.

  A WIDE SHOT OF THE OCEAN AND RACE FLOAT

  It is dark now — but there is a bright moon, which casts the water in silver. The flags on the float flutter in the breeze. Houghtie’s speedboat, tied to the dock, is lit by electric lanterns. A dreamscape.

  SUDDENLY, just in front of the float, Ben and Serena surface — laughing.

  They hang for a moment on the side.

  BEN

  I’ve never seen the ocean this warm.

  SERENA

  It’s a sign.

  BEN

  You and your signs. What kind of sign?

  SERENA

  Silly — a sign of welcome. All that matters here is us. I love you, Ben. With my heart and with my soul.

  Serena kisses Ben, deeply, and this time he puts up no resistance. Mid-kiss, Serena pulls away and climbs onto the float. She is gloriously naked.

  BEN

  Come back here!

  SERENA

  Catch me if you can!

  Serena arches her body and dives into the water, leaving barely a ripple. Ben looks in the direction of where she went under. When she doesn’t surface, he turns anxious.

  Still seeing no sign of Serena, Ben hoists himself onto the float.

  BEN

  Serena!

  There is no answer, only the sound of surf.

  BEN (CONT’D)

  Serena!

  Ben is pacing as he scans the horizon. He is becoming more anxious by the second.

  CLOSE ON BEN’S LEGS

  A hand shoots out of the water and grabs his ankle. Ben screams. Serena rockets onto the float. She is laughing hysterically. Ben captures her in a bear hug.

  BEN

  Don’t ever do that again.

  SERENA

  Were you worried?

  BEN

  I was scared shitless.

  SERENA

  Because of what Stephanie would say when they found the body? Come on, Ben. Let me set you free.

  INT. SUMMER HOUSE - BEN’S BEDROOM - MIDNIGHT

  Ben and Serena are making love. The SOUNDTRACK is Justin Timberlake’s 2007 hit Summer Love.

  INT. SUMMER HOUSE - KITCHEN - THE NEXT DAY

  Ben and Serena are packing a picnic basket of lobster salad, cheeses, bread, champagne, etc. They leave the hous
e for the dock.

  EXT. HOUGHTON DOCK - DAY

  Ben and Serena are in Houghtie’s Glory. Serena casts them off and they head into a calm, warm, cloudless summer day.

  EXT. HOUGHTIE’S GLORY - AFTERNOON

  Ben is gunning the boat while Serena stands on the bow, in imitation of a masthead — except for the half-empty bottle of champagne she hoists over her head. With her other hand, Serena bares her top. This is quite a day.

  Serena leaves the bow and wraps her arms around Ben. They make out as the boat roars along at top speed, passing other boaters — many of whom blare their horns in approval. Soon, they are on the deck, Serena straddling Ben, the boat pilotless . . .

  DISSOLVE TO:

  INT. SUMMER HOUSE - BEN’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

  Ben and Serena are making love again.

  FADE TO:

  INT. SUMMER HOUSE - BEN’S BEDROOM - MORNING

  Ben wakes up to discover that he’s alone. Leaving his bedroom, he wanders the house, but sees no sign of Serena. In the study, he notices the red light is lit on the answering machine. There is one message, which he plays.

  STEPHANIE (O.S.)

  Hi, it’s me. Just calling to say I love you. You’re probably walking the beach. No need to call me back tonight, I’m exhausted and already in bed. We have opening arguments tomorrow. Wish me luck. Call me. Sweet dreams, Ben.

  In the kitchen, Ben finds a fresh pot of coffee — and a note taped to the table.

  INSERT - NOTE FROM SERENA

  As he reads, Serena NARRATES.

  SERENA (V.O.)

  Dear Ben:

  I waited 17 years for this. I have unexpected business today, but nothing tonight... nothing but you. I’ll see you as the sun sets and the sea beckons us with her warm embrace.

  Love, your Serena

  EXT. THE ATLANTIC HOTEL - MORNING

  Ben parks in front of The Atlantic, the old hotel where he spotted Serena the first time. Carrying a manila envelope, he goes up the stairs and inside, to the registration desk. It is manned by a CLERK, an older, responsible-looking woman.

  CLERK

  Good morning, Ben. I heard about your father. I’m sorry.

  BEN

  Thanks, Ruthie. He was a very sick man. Looking at it that way, it was a blessing.

  CLERK

  These things often are. What can I do for you?

  BEN

  I’m looking for someone who’s staying here.

  Her name is Serena Fisher.

  CLERK

  Serena Fisher... Serena Fisher... doesn’t ring a bell.

  When did she check in?

  BEN

  Two and a half, three weeks ago.

  Ben removes the photo-shoot contract from his envelope and shows the clerk.

  INSERT - CONTRACT

  It is Ben’s professional letterhead. At the bottom, beneath the job estimate, Serena has written:

  Serena Fisher, Room 13, The Atlantic Hotel.

  BEN

  See?

  The clerk studies the note.

  CLERK

  We don’t have any Room 13 — superstition, you know. But let me double-check the guest list.

  (laughs)

  At my age, you know, the memory starts to slip.

  The clerk looks through cards, and comes up with nothing.

  CLERK (CONT’D)

  ‘Fraid you’re out of luck. Nobody by that name since we opened Memorial Day weekend.

  BEN

  This is a picture of her.

  Ben shows the clerk a photograph of Serena.

  CLERK

  Good-looking girl — I’d remember a one like her. Haven’t seen her, Ben. She hasn’t been staying here.

  BEN

  Will you do me a favor? If she comes by will you give me a call? Here’s my cell phone number.

  CLERK

  Let me guess: She stiffed you.

  BEN

  Yes.

  The clerk shakes her head in disgust.

  CLERK

  College kids. You better believe we get more than our share of them, too. They trash their rooms — and then sneak out without paying. Oh, yes. I know how you feel. I hope you find her.

  A SERIES OF SHOTS

  Of Ben driving onto the ferry, off the ferry after crossing to the mainland, and along an interstate highway north toward Boston. He exits the Mass. Turnpike and proceeds along the Charles River to Harvard Square, where he finds Professor Bergman’s house: a white ivy-covered Georgian.

  EXT. PROFESSOR BERGMAN’S HOUSE - LATE MORNING

  Having answered the bell, a HOUSEKEEPER is at the door. Ben is standing outside, holding his manila envelope. The housekeeper is in her early 60s, conservatively dressed, gray hair. She speaks with an English accent.

  HOUSEKEEPER

  Do you have an appointment?

  BEN

  No.

  HOUSEKEEPER

  Whom may I say is calling, then?

  BEN

  Ben Houghton. Professor Bergman was a friend of my father’s.

  HOUSEKEEPER

  Do come in.

  INT. PROFESSOR BERGMAN’S HOUSE - LATE MORNING

  The housekeeper shows Ben to Bergman’s study, crammed with books, papers, wall maps, and antiques, and featuring a massive oak desk with a computer and large-screen monitor. The housekeeper summons Bergman, who wheels himself into the room a short while later.

  BERGMAN

  I have been expecting you.

  (a beat)

  Last night, I had a dream. In it, I heard the siren’s song. You were with her. Her name is Serena, is it not?

  BEN

  Yes.

  BERGMAN

  Serena Fisher. Terrible pun on her part, but an appropriate description.

  Ben takes photographs out of the manila envelope.

  BEN

  I’ve brought photos.

  BERGMAN

  How extraordinary! To my knowledge, they are the first ever taken of her — or her kind. Our impressions of them until now have been drawn entirely from personal narratives and drawings.

  Bergman takes the photos and wheels himself to his desk. With a magnifying glass, he examines them.

  BERGMAN (CONT’D)

  She’s stunning, isn’t she? The sight of her takes an old man’s breath away.

  Bergman goes to his computer and calls up files of professionally rendered drawings of the human form.

  BERGMAN (CONT’D)

  What would you guess she weighs?

  BEN

  A hundred fifteen, a hundred twenty pounds, something like that.

  BERGMAN

  And how tall?

  BEN

  About five-ten. Maybe a shade taller.

  Bergman clicks on the drawing that most closely matches Ben’s description. It is the outline of a woman standing. Measurements of hands, legs, waist, neck, etc. are displayed in a drop-down menu.

  BERGMAN

  Because it deals so extensively with uniforms,

 

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