FADE IN:
INT. DOCTOR’S OFFICE, FLAGSTAFF, AZ - WAITING ROOM - FRIDAY MIDDAY
WANDA, early 60s, sits among other patients, holding a magazine with one hand and dabbing her runny nose with a Kleenex with the other. She has a cold. Hold on her for a while, because she has an interesting face, and something is happening behind it. We hear MUZAK in the background.

VOICE (O.S.)
Ms. Sands?

Wanda looks up, smiles and nods politely to the nurse, then rises up out of frame.

CUT TO:
INT. DOCTOR’S OFFICE - A FEW MINUTES LATER
Wanda sits in a chair opposite the doctor, who is seated behind his desk. Behind her, diplomas, certificates and a number of travel photographs fill the wall. We’re entering the scene in mid-conversation, and it should be clear to us that Wanda is receiving some bad news.

DOCTOR (O.S.)
I want you to see Dr. Lehman as soon as possible. I’ll send the results over to his office this afternoon.

WANDA
Whatever you think.

MED. SHOT - DOCTOR
A pleasant-enough looking man in his early 40s. While he speaks, he periodically brushes his knuckles across the bottom of his nose, as if scratching a vague itch. Finally, looking up at her:

DOCTOR
Does first thing Monday morning suit you?

WANDA
That should be fine.

It’s obvious she’s eager to leave.

DOCTOR
I’ll have Becky call you with the time for Monday. Now, if there are any more flare-ups over the weekend, anything unusual, I want you to call me—immediately.

Wanda rises and reaches across the desk to shake the doctor’s hand. He half-stands.

WANDA
We’ll talk on Monday, then.

Wanda exits the office. He sits back down.

The doctor, alone now, looks after her, concerned, then reaches for the phone with one hand, picking his nose with the thumb of the other.

CUT TO:
INT./EXT. DRIVING - WANDA’S CAR - DAY
The CAMERA is just outside the driver’s side window; we see Wanda’s profile. She drives, looking straight ahead, her jaw tight. On SOUNDTRACK, absolute silence: she is sealed off in the car. Gradually, the sounds of the street—horns, brakes, traffic noises—FADE UP. We hear a jackhammer, which gets louder and louder, eventually melding into the whining sound of an electric tool pressing into wood.

CUT TO:
INT. JIM’S HOUSE - WORKSHOP - DAY
A carpenter’s workshop. Lots of sawdust, along with groupings of furniture in various stages of completion.

JIM, mid-60s, leans over an unfinished table, working on the carved details of its border. The phone RINGS. Jim puts down the tool and reaches over to a dusty phone. In the b.g., we hear country-western music on a tinny radio.

JIM
(into receiver)
Yup.

We hear a man’s muffled, unintelligible voice (NOTE: In all phone conversations, the voice O.S. will be impossible to hear clearly). We can tell from Jim’s expression that he is not fond of whomever has telephoned and is now talking incessantly on the other end of the phone. During the conversation, the camera roams around the room, taking in the details of Jim’s surroundings. Tacked up on the wall behind Jim’s desk (fashioned from a couple of sawhorses and a large piece of plywood) are a fishing calendar, a few scenic postcards, and a small, dog-eared photograph of a very young child.

At the first opportunity:

JIM
Samuel, I’ve already carved the borders in three—
(listening)
Uh-huh...But you guys approved the plans a month ago...It’s...I’m not talking to the committee, I’m talking to you...that’s right, and you said...

We hear the sound of a car’s engine pulling up outside. The engine dies, and a car door opens and closes. We hear footsteps on gravel, approaching the door of the workshop.

JIM
Well, I got other people waitin’ for their jobs here -- what am I supposed...

The door to the workshop opens and Wanda walks in. She’s more relaxed than she was in the doctor’s office—it’s obvious she’s relieved to be here, in “safe” territory, with Jim, her companion of several years. She crosses over to one of the unfinished cane chairs and sits down, fishing in her pocket for a Kleenex.

Jim, still on the phone, looks at her and senses something’s wrong. He motions to her that he’ll be off in a second.

JIM
(into phone)
At least come over and see ’em before... Yeah, please... Monday’s fine...Nine’s okay...Yeah...Yeah.

He hangs up; looks over at her expectantly.

WANDA
(off his look)
He wants me to see the neurologist.

His eyebrows raised, Jim nods encouragingly: “And...?”

WANDA
He’s...he’s not sure—he just wants me to get a second opinion.
(pause)
You know how doctors are...
(changing the subject)
Was that Samuel?

JIM
(a sarcastic smile)
How could you tell?

He comes over to her, kneels down beside her, kisses her forehead. She sneezes.

JIM
Blessya.

CUT TO:
INT. JIM’S KITCHEN - A FEW MINUTES LATER
During the following conversation, Jim moves about the kitchen preparing Wanda’s tea; there is a gentle, endearing clumsiness to his actions. We come in in mid-conversation:

JIM
...so now I don’t know whether to carve any more or hold tight until they come by on Monday. I figure, once they see ’em...anyway, the shop’s filled up with library tables—can’t start on much else.

WANDA
You want to carry them out? We could store them in the garage.

JIM
Naw, thanks. By the time I get into the groove on something else, Monday’ll be here and I’ll just have to drag ’em back in.

The teapot whistles, and Jim pulls it off the burner, pouring the hot water into a mug he’s pulled from the drying rack by the sink. He brings the tea over to Wanda, seated at the kitchen table.

WANDA
Thanks.

Jim sits down in the chair next to her, takes her hand.

JIM
When’s the neurologist?

WANDA
I don’t know, sometime Monday. They’re supposed to call. I should’ve pushed to see him today...

JIM
Call ’em up. It’s still early—I’ll go over there with you.

WANDA
I don’t know...
(unconvinced)
I suppose I should...

JIM
Want me to call?

WANDA
No. I—
(pause)
I’ll wait.

After another moment of silence, Jim looks up at the clock on the kitchen wall, then back down at the table.

JIM
(quietly)
It’s gonna be...

WANDA
(breaking in)
I know, I know—a long weekend...

They both manage a small laugh. Suddenly, Jim has an idea:

JIM
So what the hell are we hanging around here for?

Charged with purpose, he stands up and heads for the phone on the wall across the kitchen.

JIM
I’m gonna call Sedona Lodge—

WANDA
(a short, cynical laugh)
On Friday afternoon?

JIM
(pondering this for a moment)
How about Lake Powell? I’ll do the cookin’; we can rent a boat one day...
(looks at Wanda)
Whatcha think?

He brushes a stray hair from her forehead.

JIM (cont’d)
(tentatively)
You up for it?

WANDA
What—this?

She points to her runny nose and makes a face, then sips her tea.

WANDA (cont’d)
Of course I’m up for it. I’d love it.

CUT TO:
EXT. WANDA’S HOUSE (SHOT THROUGH WINDOW) - LATER
We see her in her bedroom, packing for the weekend. She’s folding clothes, moving back and forth in the room. Her actions are quick, directed. OVER this we hear the sounds of the street: cars passing, birds singing, children laughing.

AS WE PULL IN, she moves over to a mirror above her bureau, tentatively twisting her hair into a ponytail and securing it with an elastic band. Her fingers tremble slightly. She regards herself in the mirror. After a moment, she pulls out the band and resumes packing.

CUT TO:
EXT. JIM’S HOUSE - BACKYARD
Jim’s chopping up firewood—one log after another—with an efficiency and singularity of purpose that would border on obsessional if his movements weren’t so controlled, so concentrated. He’s thinking about Wanda—about what she’s said and hasn’t said—and trying to make decisions about issues neither she nor we are aware of.

CUT TO:
INT. WANDA’S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - LATER

She’s sitting at a desk, addressing a letter. Upon finishing, she checks the address she’s written against another piece of paper on the desk, then affixes a stamp to the envelope. Wanda looks at her watch and rises, then puts on the light jacket hanging off the back of the chair. Picking up the letter, she’s on her way out to the mailbox when the telephone RINGS. She hesitates, looks at the letter, then puts it in her jacket pocket and goes to answer the phone.

CUT TO:
INT. JIM’S HOUSE - WORKSHOP - DAY
He’s back in the workshop, on the phone.

JIM
(into phone)
I’m on my way.
(pauses, listens)
No, I’m bringin’ the new one. Yup. Okay.

He disconnects the call with his finger, then holds it there for a moment, deliberating. Finally, looking determined, he dials another number -- it’s long distance. We hear faint rings, and then a CLICK as a machine picks up the receiver on the other end. He groans, dreading having to leave a message. After waiting for the outgoing message to end:

JIM
Hey there, it’s me...uh, it’s Jim...

He looks uncomfortable, as if he doesn’t know what to say next.

JIM (cont’d)
You there?...
(no one picks up)
Listen, I’m not gonna be around this weekend...

A pause; this is obviously torturous for him.

CUT TO:
INSERT - CLOSE-UP - ANSWERING MACHINE
Through a small plastic window in the top of the machine, we see the tape sprockets moving.

JIM (V.O.)
...I’m sorry, but...you’re gonna have to bear with me here, hon...

CUT TO:
INT. JIM’S HOUSE - WORKSHOP (CONTINUOUS)

JIM
Can’t do it -- It isn’t the right time...I know it all seems simple to you, but you gotta believe me, it’s --

He hears a click, and thinks he’s been disconnected.

JIM (cont’d)
Is this...is this still on?...
(defeated—and relieved)
Oh, for chrissakes, I’ll talk to you Monday.

He hangs up the phone, exhales. He sits there a moment, his fingers tracing the grooves in one of the library tables.

CUT TO:
EXT. WANDA’S HOUSE - DRIVEWAY - SOON AFTER
Jim’s loading the last of Wanda’s things into the back of his pickup truck as she climbs into the driver’s seat. In the foreground, barely noticeable, we see her mailbox, its flag down.

CUT TO:
INT./EXT. DRIVING - JIM’S TRUCK - FRIDAY AFTERNOON
Wanda drives while Jim scours a map.

JIM
I bet you’d like Lee’s Ferry—it’s the one off of 89A we passed that time we drove up to Bryce.

WANDA
When we took the kids? That seems like forever...

JIM
Have you talked to them yet?

A beat. There’s no response from Wanda.

JIM (cont’d)
They might appreciate knowin’ what’s goin’ on.

WANDA
What am I going to tell them? Maybe after the neurologist, when I know more...
(stalling)
Anyway, you know how it is: they’re never home. I’ll have to leave a message. And then they’ll have to try and reach me—

A pause. She looks straight ahead.

WANDA (cont’d)
I don’t want to leave this on their machines, Jim.

JIM
(gently)
I know, I know, but you can usually catch ’em home early—I just got Jerry the other morning—

WANDA
(abrupt)
Jim. Don’t press it.

JIM
Okay, all right...

Long pause. They both look ahead, lost in their thoughts.

As Wanda moves to adjust the rearview mirror, her hand brushes against her jacket pocket; she feels the stiff presence of the letter she placed there earlier.

She grimaces to herself, annoyed that she forgot to put it in the mail.

CUT TO:
INT. GAS STATION - BY CASH REGISTER - LATE DAY

The last service station for many miles. Wanda’s in line, about to pay for the gas. The cashier is an unpleasant, sour-faced young woman engaged in a minor argument with the customer in front of Wanda.

CUSTOMER
(pointing to window, agitated)
Right there—“We take the Discover card”—

CASHIER
Not anymore.

CUSTOMER
Then you shouldn’t still have it up in the goddamn window. I filled up here so I could use my card.
(no response)
I’m low on cash...

The cashier stares through the customer with a look of indifference and thinly disguised disdain. After another moment, the customer reaches into his wallet, pulls out a twenty and shoves it at the cashier.

CUSTOMER
Fucking ridiculous...

The cashier rings it up and hands him his change.

NEW ANGLE TAKING IN PLATE GLASS WINDOW IN FRONT OF SHOP -
In the b.g., through the window, we see Jim putting the gas cap back on the car.

Wanda, having witnessed the previous exchange, steps up to the counter sporting a sympathetic smile.

WANDA
Hello. Number 4, please.

As the cashier punches it into the register:

WANDA
I wonder if I could ask you a favor...

The cashier, still annoyed and as unresponsive as ever, looks up at her. Wanda removes the letter from her pocket and slides it onto the counter.

WANDA
I need to get this in the mail before Monday, and I was wondering if...I’m heading out of town and won’t be near a mailbox...It’s already stamped...

The cashier just stares at her and, with the barest minimum of effort, executes a slight roll of the eyes.

CASHIER
Yeah, sure.

WANDA
Thank you so much.

The cashier grunts a reply, hands Wanda her change. After a moment, Wanda glances at the letter, still on the counter, then back at the cashier.

WANDA
Are you sure this isn’t a problem?

CASHIER
Not a problem.

Wanda smiles, thanks her again (another pointed glance at the letter) and exits.

CUT TO:
INT. TRUCK - DRIVING - LATE DAY
TWO-SHOT from front windshield looking in.

JIM
Did you bring your paints?

WANDA
I did indeed. Picasso of The Four Corners.

She smiles, makes a face.

He chuckles, happy to see her lightening up. This was a good idea. He reaches over, runs his hand through her hair.

SWOOSH. The truck drives past us and we PAN to watch it move toward, then over, the horizon.

CUT TO:
NT. GAS STATION - CASHIER’S DESK - DAY

CLOSE-UP on letter, in cashier’s hands. Her fingers obscure the address.

WIDER ANGLE on cashier, who, with the same bored expression, slides the letter off the counter and into a trash bin underneath it as another customer enters the store.

CUT TO:
INT. DRIVING - JIM’S TRUCK - LATER

Jim and Wanda have been playing a game of “Ghost.” It’s Jim’s turn to add a letter to the word being formed by the two of them. He’s running through possibilities in his mind. Finally:

JIM
“A”.

Looks over at her, then back at the road.

Wanda considers this for ten seconds or so, then, looking out the window:

WANDA
“N”.

Jim thinks for a second. With a worried look, he quickly counters with:

JIM
“T”.

WANDA
You spelled a word. “Cant.”

JIM
But that’s a contraction, right? Does it count?

WANDA
No, not cannot “can’t.” “Cant.” Insincere statements. Jargon.

JIM
Shit. I was thinkin’ “canteen.”
(lightly)
I don’t know why I play this goddamn game with you...

WANDA
It wasn’t my idea...

Wanda smiles at him, reaches over and turns on the radio. She tries several stations, but gets only static. She gives up, yawns.

DISSOLVE TO:
INT. JIM’S TRUCK - LATER

CLOSE-UP - JIM
He executes a slight belch, covering his mouth as he does so. Almost automatically:

JIM
(thickly)
’Scuse me.

He looks over at Wanda.

AS THE CAMERA MOVES OVER TO WANDA, we see that she’s asleep, her head resting against the window. The late afternoon sunlight illumines her face and long, white hair; she looks beautiful, and fragile.

BACK TO JIM -
He turns back to the road, then steals a few more glances at her as he drives, his expression full of deep affection. He suddenly can’t imagine ever leaving her. The tenderness in his face gradually distills down into resolve. He shifts his focus back to the highway.

CUT TO:
EXT. LEE’S FERRY CAMPING AREA - LATE AFTERNOON
Jim drives the truck into the campground entrance, heads down the road for a while, then stops. Dust rises. It’s an extraordinary place: desert landscapes interrupted periodically by massive rock formations jutting into the sky.

JIM (O.S.)
Wake up, sleepyhead. We’re here.

MEDIUM SHOT - TAKING IN BACK OF TRUCK
Jim opens his door and steps out.

JIM (cont’d)
Looks like we got the place to ourselves.

He moves to the back of the truck, opens the cab, and starts pulling out camping equipment. Wanda exits with a slight coughing spell, and stands outside with her face to the setting sun. She stretches and takes a deep breath.

WANDA
Nice.

She moves to the back of the truck and helps Jim unload. They pull out the tent, a cooler, a duffle bag full of clothing, and Jim’s bamboo fly-fishing rod.

WANDA
Hmmm. The bamboo. Special occasion.

JIM
You bet.

CUT TO:
EXT. CAMPGROUND - LATER - DUSK
Jim is nailing the tent’s last pylon into the ground as Wanda starts carrying things inside. She brings in a tape player and turns it on: we hear one of Chopin’s piano sonatas. She has a coughing spell.

JIM
(hearing her cough)
Honey, you want me to start a fire? You gettin’ cold?

WANDA
Would you?

Jim takes off his jacket and tosses it to her.

JIM
Here.

He starts pulling firewood off the back of the truck.

CUT TO:
EXT. CAMPGROUND - DARKNESS HAS FALLEN
Jim has attended to the fire, and it’s begun to blaze. He’s crouching beside it, while in the b.g. we see Wanda’s profile inside the tent, moving around, arranging things.

MED. CLOSE - JIM
The warm light from the fire is reflected in his face. He’s looking into, and beyond, the blaze, enjoying a moment of abstract reflection.

After a beat, he turns away and reaches for a pot.

CUT TO:
INT. TENT - JIM AND WANDA INSIDE - NIGHT
They’re finishing up the stew Jim made. Wanda’s put on a sweater, and Jim’s wearing his long johns and a jacket. An empty bottle of red wine sits between them, and they both look sated and slightly tipsy.

JIM
I told you I talked to Jerry, right? He sounded good. Busy. He keeps askin’ me when we’re comin’ out to visit.

WANDA
I’m so glad you’re close with the kids.

JIM
Hell, they’re like my own...

A long pause. After a moment, Jim takes her hand.

JIM
(earnest)
Move in with me.

She starts to protest; they’ve discussed this before.

Jim (cont’d)
Wait --

WANDA
Honey...you and I, what we have—it works because—

JIM
No. That isn’t why it “works,” Wanda; I don’t buy that, not for a minute...

WANDA
I don’t want the responsibility, the obligation. I don’t want it anymore.

JIM
I’m not William, you know...

There’s a long pause. Feeling the wine, and the weight of the day’s revelations, Wanda is in the grip of an almost unprecedented candor.

WANDA
The last ten years with William—especially after the kids left—were not the greatest. Actually, they were pretty awful. I remember shocking myself on occasion with the thought, “If only he would go away.” I knew, at the bottom of that, that what I was wishing for, in an abstract way, was...for him to die—in an abstract way...

She looks over at Jim for a reaction.

JIM
Okay.

WANDA
It was because I knew I would never leave him otherwise; I couldn’t even imagine doing it. I wanted God to take care of it for me. When it happened, of course I was devastated. I felt like I’d died myself...
(a beat)
I was so alone, so...unmoored.
(pauses; remembering)
That July, I took a trip to Italy with Cheryl. Near the end of it she went up to Switzerland to visit some college friends—Lucerne, I think...

CUT TO:
EXT. STREETS OF ROME - (FLASHBACK)
We hear Wanda’s voice OVER images (all shot from her point of view) illustrating her account of the last night in Rome.

Shot hand-held, possibly Super-8.

We start with Wanda (CAMERA POV) hugging her daughter goodbye at the train station.

CUT TO:
BACK TO PRESENT - CAMPGROUND
CLOSE-UP of Wanda’s face, lit by kerosene lamp in tent.

WANDA
I had one night left in Rome before flying back. I was going to stay in the hotel, order room service, then read myself to sleep. But after dinner, I thought I’d take a walk—near the Pantheon...

CUT TO:

FLASHBACK - HAND-HELD B/W Shots, from Wanda’s POV, of the Roman streets.

WANDA (V.O.)
It was wonderful at first—I felt...invisible. There were these—these packs of boys and girls roaming the streets, all of them impossibly beautiful, energetic...
(a beat)
I stopped for a cappuccino at one of the outdoor cafés. And I’ll never forget the way the waiter looked at me when he took my order: he pitied me! What was this old woman doing out by herself at that time of night? And just like that, I saw myself the way he—and probably everybody else—saw me, and as hard as I tried to go back to being “invisible”... I couldn’t do it.

Long pause. HOLD camera on Roman street.

CUT TO:
BACK TO PRESENT - TWO-SHOT - WANDA & JIM

WANDA
But I’d gotten that taste of it, and after a while, I learned—I taught myself, really—that being unattached, being my own person, was all right—no, not “all right”; just...right.

And then, almost to herself:

WANDA
A revelation.

She looks up at him, smiles, strokes his face with her hand. He’s captivated. After a beat, she starts gathering up the plates, then rises and exits the tent.

We hear her scraping off the plates into a garbage container, then placing them in a cooler by the tent.

CLOSE ON JIM -

After a moment, he gets up to go outside. WE GO WITH HIM. Wanda’s standing in front of the fire, hugging herself against the cold. A small shiver. He comes up behind her, wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tightly.

JIM
Okay, I’m gettin’ you back in the tent before you end up with pneumonia.

WANDA
Honey, I’m fine.

JIM
(putting his hands on her shoulders)
C’mon.

Eyebrows raised, she smiles and gives in. He leads her back into the tent, where they move to sit down next to one another. As Jim alights, his back end hits a book lying on the tent’s floor. Picking it up:

JIM
(noticing bookmark)
You’re almost done.

She blows her nose with a piece of tissue paper she’s pulled from her sweater pocket.

WANDA
I’ve been putting off finishing it. I always do...
(a beat)
It makes me sad. I always get a chill down my spine when I read the last line, like I’ve seen the last of a friend.

We hear the muted sound of plane passing overhead.

A long, long pause. Finally:

WANDA
(casually)
Jim. Who’s Lolly.

Jim is stunned—speechless. After a beat, the best he can manage is:

JIM
What?

WANDA
Lolly. Who is she.

He runs a hand through his hair. Silence.

A TRUCK ENGINE is heard approaching, and the lights from the vehicle sweep across the tent’s skin. They both look in the direction of the noise.

The engine shuts off, and we hear a door open and close O.S., then footsteps. A diffused flashlight beam glances over the outside of the tent. (Underlined dialogue is from the film BROKEN ARROW.)

PARK RANGER (O.S.)
Park Ranger! I’d like to speak to you about this campfire!

JIM
Shit.

WANDA
Should I go?

JIM
(escaping)
I’ll go, Wanda. You stay put.

WANDA’S POV
Jim rises, walks out of the tent. Through the use of barely discernible slow motion, his movements take on a dreamlike quality. When he’s a few feet from the tent opening, he turns to face the ranger. The beam of a flashlight plays over his face and chest.

CUT TO:
EXT. CAMPGROUND (MATCHING Earlier scene)
The ranger is in the foreground, his back to us, and Jim, standing beside the tent, faces him in the background. Wanda’s profile is backlit from the light in the tent. The quality of the image has changed: it’s rougher and striated. After a moment, it should be clear that we’re looking at video. Similarly, the soundtrack has a canned quality.

JIM
(Still reeling)
Yeah, I know. No wood fires in the park. It’s just that Wanda has a cold and I’m trying to keep her warm.

PARK RANGER
Sir, have you seen any other hikers or...campers in this area?

JIM
Not this time of year...Say, what’s the fine for something like this?

PARK RANGER
Pretty steep...

Suddenly, the park ranger pulls out a gun and, aiming at Jim, unleashes a volley of gunshots. Jim’s body jerks from each bullet’s impact, and he staggers, then falls, face first, onto the campfire.

RAPID INTERCUT WITH VIDEO:

INT. TENT - CAMPGROUND
MED. CLOSE-UP - WANDA - HAND-HELD
Her face registers disbelief, then horror. She screams.

BACK TO VIDEO (EXT. CAMPGROUND)
The ranger aims at Wanda’s profile and fires off several more rounds. Blood sprays against the sides of the tent.

After a moment:

RANGER
(O.S., into walkie-talkie)
Secured...

As the action continues, we start PULLING BACK from the video image, revealing the outer edges of a television monitor. The top of someone’s head passes through the bottom of the frame. CONTINUING TO PULL BACK, we see we’re actually in a...

SEAMLESS CUT TO:

INT. BLOCKBUSTER VIDEO STORE - NIGHT - PULLING BACK - HIGH ANGLE
It’s late at night. There are only a few people around: a video clerk and a customer (the top of whose head we’ve just seen) approaching the counter. The television we’re pulling back from continues to play BROKEN ARROW -- it’s one of six monitors around the store hanging from the ceiling.

CAMERA STOPS. The view should resemble that from a security camera. Everywhere we look: videos. Rows upon rows of them. On the walls, and at various spots on the floor, posters and 3-D promotions for current and upcoming releases.

The customer reaches the counter, handing a video he’s chosen to the clerk.

CUSTOMER
(to clerk; motioning to TV monitor nearest counter)
That any good?

CLERK
(shrugs)
His Hong Kong stuff’s better...

He hands the customer his change. The customer exits.

OVER image of now-empty store, save for the clerk, who fiddles with the computer for a moment, then, bored, stares vacantly ahead...

ROLL CREDITS.

FADE TO BLACK.

THE END