SARA
by William P. Coleman

FADE IN:

EXT. JAKE'S HOUSE - DAY

In Maine. There's tackle on the dock and a fishing boat in the slip. A light first snow is on the ground. You feel coldness in the thick fog.

PETER (in his forties) stops his car on the road in front of the house. Gets out fast, and knocks on the front door. He wears Italian elegance that's out of place in this scenery.

JAKE (same age) answers. He wears two different wool plaid shirts, in layers.

JAKE
It's been years since you've stopped to visit me.

Although Jake is surprised to see Peter, he holds back from letting it show.

PETER
I know, Jake.  Look, this isn't a vis--

JAKE
Nice clothes you wear now.

PETER
Jake, I need a favor.

JAKE
We never failed each other in high school.  Why start now?

Jake continues to look Peter over. He's calm but curious.

PETER
Can you run me over to the mainland?

JAKE
What happened to your boat?

Peter moves toward Jake's boat. As Jake follows, he pulls on severe-looking black rubberized raingear.

PETER
Maybe I could explain while we're underway.

Jake starts the engine.

JAKE
Could you cast off the lines?

Peter stares at Jake and then replies -- indicating his suit -- deadpan, like he's chatting with a friend after a game of squash.

PETER
You like it? Armani. It's surprisingly practical in a variety of situations -- but not working around boats.

Jake, with a generous smile, shrugs and takes care of the lines himself.

PETER
My boat's engine died. It wasn't a good moment to fix it.

EXT. JAKE'S BOAT; ON THE WATER - LATER

Dense fog. Jake stands at the wheel, Peter behind him.

PETER
I'll see Sara this trip.

There's a flicker of interest in Jake's calm eyes. He nods acknowledgment to Peter without turning to look at him.

JAKE
How is she?

PETER
Good. She's good.

They stand in silence for a long minute.

PETER
I'm hoping she and I can get back together.

This time Jake does turn, as he smiles warmly to Peter.

JAKE
That would be good.

Peter, though gratefully surprised by Jake's earnestness, seems to need to justify himself.

PETER
You know it was me who left her -- not her me. So, maybe.

JAKE
No, I didn't know that.

PETER
After I lost the election -- after four goddam good terms when they suddenly didn't want me any more -- I couldn't face her -- couldn't let her see me like that.

Jake gestures out ahead of the boat, through the fog.

JAKE
There's Highport.

PETER
Yeah.

JAKE
Sara wasn't judgmental. She wouldn't have turned on you.

PETER
I know that now.

They pull up to the dock. Jake ties on the lines. Peter lingers.

PETER
You know, you were the one she wanted, back in high school. I'm not her type: too fast, too self-absorbed.

JAKE
Maybe.

PETER
You never put the moves on her. She waited.

Jake stands with calm dignity, but desolate.

JAKE
I was afraid to.

Peter stares at Jake, who stares back.

FADE OUT

 

WILLIAM P. COLEMAN (wpc@wpcmath.com) is a writer -- of screenplays, fiction, and essays on art and movies -- and a photographer. He's working on a book, "Learning from Hitchcock: for people who make, write, or watch movies."

 

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