JOEY:
I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking.
JOHNNY:
You listen to me good, Joey. This time, I’ll take care of Fat Manny.
Johnny grabs the bag. Points his finger at Joey.
JOHNNY:
BUT YOU, you better clean up your act. You’re goin’ down a bad fuckin’ place. And, you AIN’T taking my sister down there with ya.’
104 INT. SPRING HILL CASKET MANUFACTURERS - NIGHT PITCH BLACK
Florescent lights flickering.
Johnny drops the carpenter bag on the desk, falls into the chair and rubs his forehead exhausted. Looking over ...
A man’s hand is hanging out of an open casket.
Johnny slowly approaches ...
Tommy Callahan lies in the casket with an open bag of cocaine spread open on his chest - white coke dust covering his nose and face.
JOHNNY:
What the...
(shaking Tommy)
Tommy! Tommy! Wake up Man!
Tommy doesn’t move. FRANTIC, Johnny scans the room.
SPOTS the fire extinguisher. Grabs it. Sprays and covers Tommy in foam.
Tommy’s coughing and flaying his arms in the air, looking like the Michelin Man.
TOMMY CALLAHAN:
What the fuck you doin’ to me, man?
Johnny grabs Tommy by the collar, SHAKES him.
JOHNNY:
What the hell are you doin’ to yourself, Tommy?
TOMMY CALLAHAN:
Fuck you, Johnny. If it wasn’t for me you’d still be shoveling shit for old man Silva.
JOHNNY:
That’s right Tommy. You’ve made my life world-class.
Johnny HURLS the half empty bag of coke at Tommy’s head.
JOHNNY:
Sorry for giving a fuck.
CUT TO:
105 INT. TUFTS UNIVERSITY AUDITORIUM - DAY
At the far back of a packed college auditorium near an EXIT sign, Grace sits reading a financial aid letter.
She folds it over and tucks it under her notebook.
The name of the class is written on a large white board ...
The Hidden Injuries of Class and Religion
Grace looks up ... does a DOUBLE-TAKE.
Substituting today: Assistant Professor Alex McPhearson
ALEX MCPHEARSON (engaging):
I’m filling in for Professor Williams. She had a baby boy last night. He decided it was his time to shine.
Class snickers.
Assistant Professor Alex McPhearson, in an ADHD fashion, speaks and writes on the board simultaneously, constantly turning from board to students - think a great TED Talk.
ALEX MCPHEARSON (lively, born presenter):
CLASS defines the pecking order of where you stand in society.
(turns to class, a bit irreverent)
You are either a big shot at the top of the heap, like
Mr. Appleton over here.
Points to a smug looking, trust fund type sitting ram rod straight in the front row.
ALEX MCPHEARSON:
Or a lowly assistant professor at the bottom of the heap like me.
Class laughs.
ALEX MCPHEARSON:
So SOCIETY and CLASS help define your self worth. RELIGION on the other hand, tells you how you should - Behave.
- Act.
- Think.
Religion is designed to judge you. Keep you scared. So you stay on the right path. The path that it CHOOSES for you. Organized religion is like a spiritual dictator.
(mockingly drills a hole into his skull)
Constantly drilling into your head that MY imaginary friend is better than YOUR imaginary friend.
(turns back to draw a diagram on the board)
So here we have SOCIETY and CLASS determining your self worth and place. While RELIGION over here wants to keep you fearful.
ALEX MCPHEARSON (turns to class):
Why is that?
CLASS (collectively shouts out):
CONTROL!
ALEX MCPHEARSON:
Yes. Control. See. Your parents’ money isn’t going to waste after all.
Classroom groans.
EXCEPT for Grace who SHIFTS uncomfortably in her seat - HIDING the financial aid letter further under her notebook.
Professor McPhearson continues writing on the white board in BIG exaggerated letters:
Control + Domination = Subordination
Close view on Grace’s notebook: She writes in big capital letters, and underlines it twice:
SUBORDINATION
The class empties out around Grace.
She picks up her books and heads up to the front of the class.
Alex has his back to her, erasing the board.
GRACE:
Hi.
Alex turns around. CONFUSED.
ALEX MCPHEARSON:
Hey! Hi Grace. What are you doing here?
GRACE:
I go here. I’m in this class.
(holding up her book)
ALEX MCPHEARSON:
Here? You go here? You’re in this class? I thought you went to Bunker Hill.
GRACE:
Yeah. Just the shirt girl, right? ... Community college material. I couldn’t possibly be in this class and go HERE.
ALEX MCPHEARSON:
No, no. That’s not it at all.
GRACE:
You know - this class, you ... all kinda reminds me of this old Portuguese saying: “The rich people on the mainland, they own the boats. And us poor people in the Azores, we work their boats.”
(a beat)
You probably thought I could only work the boats.
Clutching her books tight, Grace turns and hurries away.
ALEX MCPHEARSON:
No, Grace. Come on ...
106 INT. VIEIRA FAMILY KITCHEN - EARLY EVENING
Bella’s, in the corner, ironing Grace’s graduation gown.
Grace, Fatima, Eddie, and their kids sit around the kitchen table eating fried dough ... malasadas.
Johnny walks in, kisses Bella, heads towards Grace.
JOHNNY:
I’ve always wanted to hug a college graduate.
They hug, she kisses him on the cheek.
JOHNNY:
Hmmm, I don’t feel any smarter.
EDDIE:
Yeah, she’s gonna go get her Bullshit of Arts degree.
Eddie laughs hysterically. No one else laughs.
JOHNNY:
Shut up, Eddie. You couldn’t even cut it as a bus driver.
Eddie’s laughter turns into embarrassed silence. He clenches his jaw in pure hatred towards Johnny.
JOHNNY (whispers to Grace):
Walk out with me.
107 EXT. VIERIA FRONT PORCH
Grace and Johnny share the front stoop.
JOHNNY:
What a piece of shit.
GRACE:
Such a jerk ... what does Fatima see in him?
JOHNNY (shooting her a “speaking of jerks” look):
Listen, we need to talk about Joey.
GRACE:
Why? What’s there to talk about?
JOHNNY:
Grace, Joey ain’t a bad kid, but he’s into some guys for a lot of money.
GRACE:
Money? Money for what?
JOHNNY:
Gambling.
GRACE:
What? Wait ... he said he was just having some fun.
JOHNNY:
Yeah, a little more fun than he can afford.
GRACE:
How bad can it be? I’ll talk to him. I can make him stop.
JOHNNY:
Baby Girl, be careful.
(pause)
You’ve made it bigger than anybody else in this whole family. Don’t go screwing it all up trying to fix Joey Medeiros.
108 INT. FATIMA AND EDDIE’S KITCHEN – MORNING
A six pack of beer rests next to Eddie on the kitchen table. He has a beer in one hand and
staring at a piece of paper in his other hand.
FATIMA:
Eddie. Come on. It’s ten o’clock in the morning.
He guzzles the rest of the beer. Slams the bottle on the table. Holds up the paper.
EDDIE:
What’s this?
Fatima moves in to get a closer look.
FATIMA:
Oh? That. It’s an application. Market Basket’s hiring cashiers. I was thinkin,’ maybe I could help bring in some money. You know, until you get another job.
Eddie crumples the application. Tosses it at her bare feet.
EDDIE:
What? Now you’re gonna wear the pants in the family?
FATIMA:
No. No Eddie. It was a surprise. I just wanna help.
She bends to pick up the crumpled paper. He grabs her wrist. She pushes his hand away. He grabs her other wrist. Her tiny wrists disappear into the vise grip of his big hands.
FATIMA:
Eddie. Stop. You’re hurtin’ me.
She struggles as he continues holding her tighter.
EDDIE:
I can take care of my own fuckin’ family.
He shoves her away. Grabs the pack of beer SMASHES it on the floor.
Beer oozes out through the broken glass, spreading all over the floor - rolling towards Fatima’s bare feet.
EDDIE:
You wanna work? Here you go. Clean up on Aisle Five!
109 INT. JOEY’S APARTMENT
The radio’s PLAYING. The shower’s RUNNING. Joey’s SINGING from the shower.
Walking into the apartment, Grace nearly trips over Joey’s construction boots and tool belt wedged by the door. Work clothes are scattered all around.
GRACE (yells out):
Hey, Joey. It’s me.
Setting her books down, she picks up his clothes, carries them over to the hamper. Checking his pockets, she pulls out keys, crumpled dollar bills and a WAD of lottery tickets.
SHOWER TURNS OFF.
Joey’s standing at the bathroom door with just a towel wrapped around his muscular waist. His curly wet hair framing his cute face.
JOEY:
Hey babe. When’d you get here?
GRACE (flustered):
Just a few minutes ago.
JOEY:
I’ll be out in a second.
She just stares from Joey to the lottery tickets, back to him.
110 INT. JOEY’S KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
Waiting. Grace, raps her fingers on the cheap aluminum table.
Joey - topless, wearing jeans - leans in to give her a kiss. She pulls away.
JOEY:
What’s up with you?
She holds out her hand filled with the lottery tickets.
GRACE:
This is what’s up with me.
JOEY:
Grace, baby, my number is gonna hit any day. Just think about how much money I could win? We’d be set for life.
GRACE (angry):
Where the hell did you get 500 dollars to blow on stupid lottery tickets?
JOEY (sheepish):
Oh. I got a raise.
GRACE:
Guess you forgot to tell me ...
(pause)
Nice going, Joey.
JOEY:
Come on, they’re just lottery tickets. That ain’t like real gambling.
GRACE:
You’re an idiot.
111 INT. CLOTHING STORE BATHING SUIT SECTION - LATER THAT DAY
Searching through racks of bathing suits, Grace is pulling out bikinis, Fatima’s picking through old lady one-pieces.
FATIMA:
What are ya’ talking about? Joey’s a great kid. He lets you do whatever you want.
GRACE:
He LETS ME ??? Are you kidding me?
FATIMA:
Come on. You know how Portuguese guys are. What’s a little gambling ... You got a good one.
GRACE:
Who says he has to be Portuguese? Why can’t he be Italian, or Jewish, or even Black?
FATIMA:
Oh, yeah right - Ma would love that. Grace, you’re starting to dream a little too big for yourself. Don’t go forgettin’ where you come from.
(pause)
Remember. We always stick with our own kind.
GRACE:
Yeah. Like Eddie.
Fatima picks up an ugly, flowered bathing suit with a skirted bottom - perfect for a nun.
Fatima’s bruised wrist peeks out from under her sleeve.
GRACE (reaching for Fatima’s wrist):
What happened to your wrist?
Fatima drops the bathing suit and quickly adjusts her sleeve.
FATIMA:
Nothing. I slipped on the carpet.
GRACE: (shooting her a look)
Yeah. Okay. Sure you did.
(flipping through suits)
I hate shopping for bathing suits with you. Every year, it’s the same old thing.
(mimicking Eddie)
No, that’s too revealing, too tight, too low, too high ... Why did you marry stupid Eddie anyway?
FATIMA (with her back to Grace):
I was 16, pregnant. Hardly spoke English.
(pause)
It was a long time ago.
(facing Grace)
You got pregnant, you got married. That’s what you did back then.
Fatima goes back to flipping through bathing suits.
GRACE:
Did you love him?
FATIMA:
Yeah, I really did. Stupid me, I still do.
Grace comes around holding a beautiful red one-piece bathing suit, totally appropriate for a mom.
GRACE:
You’d look great in this.
FATIMA (laughing):
Yeah right. He’d never let me out of the house in that.
Fatima heads into the dressing room, armed with a dozen nun worthy bathing suits. Grace plops the red bathing suit on top.
CUT TO:
112 EXT. APARTMENT ROOF TOP - JULY 4TH NIGHT
LOUD MUSIC. Dancing. Drinking. Smoking Dope.
Dozens of guys and girls are partying on top of the apartment’s roof. Fat Manny and Little Louie are totally wasted.
113 INT. DARKENED BATHROOM
Johnny turns the knob on an old, scarred-up door, opening it up into a darkened bathroom.
Turns on the light. STOPS.
With his back to the door, hair matted and dirty under a black P.O.W. bandana, Tommy is sitting on top of the toilet seat. A rubber tube’s wrapped around his left arm. He’s holding a syringe in his right hand.
JOHNNY:
What the fuck, Tommy?
Tommy jumps and slowly cranes his head towards Johnny. His face is thin and gaunt, his eyes bloodshot. Distant.
He swivels around, looking Johnny STRAIGHT in the eye.
TOMMY CALLAHAN (his words slow and deliberate):
You don’t know a damn thing about it. It’s the prettiest high you’ll ever get. It’s like seeing the fuckin’ Virgin Mary.
Tommy deliberately sticks the syringe into his veined arm as his head rolls backwards, sinking back against the toilet.
Johnny steadies himself up against the doorframe, eyes tearing up as he helplessly WATCHES his best friend disappear into his high.
114 EXT. APARTMENT ROOF TOP - NIGHT, A FEW HOURS LATER
In the background, colorful fire works BURST and CRACKLE. The blast of colors adding to the party’s HIGH.
FAT MANNY (visibly high, pointing, laughing):
Oh shit man! Look at Tommy. He thinks he’s a friggin’ rocket.
Standing a little too close to the edge of the roof, Tommy’s stretching out - reaching out for the fireworks.
Arms spread wide - Tommy starts flying around the roof.
EVERYONE’S POINTING OVER AT TOMMY ... LAUGHING.
TOMMY CALLAHAN:
Hey John, Johnny. Look at me. I’m fuckin’ flying, man. FLYING.
Tommy LOCKS eyes on Johnn
y.
TOMMY CALLAHAN:
Who says Port-a-Geese can’t fly?
Tommy takes a running lead and LEAPS off the roof as fireworks EXPLODE behind him.
115 EXT: JOHNNY’S APARTMENT BUILDING -
LATE NEXT DAY
Grace sits on the apartment stoop, writing in her notebook. Her cell phone rings - Caller ID: Joey.
JOHNNY :
What are you doing here?
GRACE (looking up, ignoring Joey’s call):
Waiting for you.
JOHNNY:
Everything okay?
GRACE:
I just heard about Tommy.
Johnny squats down next to her.
GRACE (taking his hand):
I’m so sorry, Johnny.
Johnny squeezes his little sister’s hand.
JOHNNY:
Tommy was my first American friend. Everybody else treated me like dirt ...
Except for Tommy.
(holding back tears)
Shit, Grace. We were all there. Just watching. I did nothing. Nothing to stop him.
(raking his fingers through his hair)
I don’t want to talk about it anymore.
They sit in silence as Grace fiddles with her ringless finger.
GRACE:
I saw Little Louie and Fat Manny coming out of the Tremont Lounge this morning. They were already totally wasted. I don’t think they even knew who I was.
JOHNNY (unusually short with Grace):
Yeah. So. What’s that got to do with me? I’m not their freaking babysitter.
GRACE:
I didn’t say you were.
Grace cell phone rings ... Joey again. She silences her phone.
GRACE:
John, I’m not stupid. Just because we never talk about anything in this family, doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on.
(pause)
I know what you all do.
Johnny stands up abruptly. Looks straight at Grace.
JOHNNY:
Yeah. That’s right, Grace. I never snagged one of them fancy office jobs like Mr. Brady.
(a beat)
Do you really think when I was a little kid I dreamed of becoming a low-life loser scumbag?
GRACE (taken aback):
No. That’s not what I meant. That’s not who you are at all.
Grace grabs for his hand. He pulls away, turns away.
Johnny STARES down the street:
His old, dreaded school building is now converted to “Longfellow Luxury Living Condos.” The sign covers the wall where Billy Maguire had spray-painted PORTAGEES SUCK!
JOHNNY (his back to Grace):
What Geese Can't Fly Page 7
