How Hard It Is To Say Goodbye

Copyright ©1996 Diane Patterson

      EXT. HOUSE - DAY (ESTABLISHING)
      
      A quiet middle class house in the suburbs.
      
      
      INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY
      
      SASHA moves through the living room with a feline
      grace -- and a feline wariness. The blinds sway in the
      wind: she studies them carefully as she glides
      through.
      
      She drapes a crucifix over the doorknob on the front
      door, all the time looking around carefully.
      
      Another crucifix on the table near the kitchen.
      
      A strand of garlic on the doorknob of the closet.
      
      She looks around the room: nothing's happening. She
      sits on the couch and picks up a magazine.
      
      NICK, the ghost of her husband, appears beside her. He
      leans towards her ear.
                             
                             NICK
                Garlic's for vampires, not
                ghosts.
                             
                             SASHA
                Don't do that.
                             
                             NICK
                Why not? It's fun.
      
      She sidles away from him.
      
      He reappears on the other end of the couch.
                             
                             NICK
                Did you have a good day at
                work, dear?
      
      Sasha murmurs a reply.
                             
                             NICK
                Did anyone ask about the
                funeral? How you're doing? When
                you'll be arrested?
      
      She swings her feet onto the couch, resting them where
      Nick's lap should be.
                             
                             NICK
                Feet off the sofa.
                             
                             SASHA
                It's my house.
                             
                             NICK
                It's my house. I was just
                stupid and left everything to
                you.
      
      Sasha looks at him over the magazine.
                             
                             SASHA
                Do I keep talking while you're
                haunting? I'm reading. Shhh.
      
      
      EXT. PSYCHIC EYE BOOKSTORE - DAY (ESTABLISHING)
      
      A bookstore for psychics and those who like to phone
      them.
      
      
      INT. PSYCHIC EYE BOOKSTORE - DAY
      
      TRIXIE LEE, a psychic who dresses for the part, sits
      in one of the consultation booths and reads the book
      Contacting The Dead carefully.
      
      She glances at her watch.
      
      She puts the bookmark in her page and scoops up the
      book, her purse, and her scarf, which is as colorful
      as she is.
      
      
      INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY
      
      Nick insists on reading the magazine over Sasha's
      shoulder, only sometimes he is sitting next to her,
      sometimes behind her, sometimes lying across the top
      of the couch.
      
      Sasha keeps reading.
                             
                             NICK
                Yesterday you were terrified of
                me. Now you're ignoring me.
                             
                             SASHA
                Already bored being a stay-at-
                home ghost?
      
      She glances at her watch.
                             
                             NICK
                Aha! You have someone coming
                over here.
      
      Sasha throws the magazine on the coffee table. She
      pauses, aligns it with the edge of the table.
      Straightens the place up a bit.
                             
                             NICK (CONT.)
                Who is it? The boyfriend you
                threw me down the stairs for?
      
      She turns and glares, but he's gone. He reappears
      behind her.
                             
                             SASHA
                Nick, you were drunk, you fell.
                             
                             NICK
                Then why am I still here?
                             
                             SASHA
                Because you're never been able
                to let anything go.
      
      Dead silence. So to speak.
      
      Then Sasha is alone in the living room. She throws up
      her hands.
                             
                             SASHA
                Start acting like an adult now
                that you're dead.
      
      
      EXT. STREET - DAY
      
      Trixie parks her car and reads a page of the book
      again.
      
      
      INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY
      
      The doorbell RINGS.
                             
                             NICK
                Guests for the grieving widow.
                A gentleman caller, perhaps?
                             
                             SASHA
                If you won't go, I'll have you
                removed.
      
      She goes to the door and primps in front of the
      mirror. She opens the door to reveal Trixie.
      
      Trixie takes Sasha's hand in both of hers.
                             
                             TRIXIE
                How lovely to meet you, though
                the circumstances are so
                unfortunate, you poor sweet
                dear.
      
      Trixie sweeps into the living room.
      
      Nick appears beside Sasha.
                             
                             NICK
                What is this?
                             
                             SASHA
                A visit from a famous psychic.
                             
                             TRIXIE
                Oh, my dear, think of me as
                your friend.
      
      Sasha smiles at her.
                             
                             NICK
                The one from the tabloid trash
                show? Sasha.
                             
                             TRIXIE
                The vibrations in this house
                are so strong!
      
      Nick heads right for Trixie. Sasha lunges forward to
      stop him, but of course her hand goes right through.
                             
                             NICK
                I'll say! She murdered me! This
                woman is a murderer!
      
      Trixie is totally oblivious.
                             
                             TRIXIE
                There's so much love here.
      
      Nick stops.
                             
                             TRIXIE (CONT.)
                He's still here, you know. He's
                looking over you. Smiling on
                you. He wants you to be happy.
      
      Nick gets right in Trixie's face.
                             
                             NICK
                No I don't, you old bag!
      
      He screams in frustration.
      
      Trixie flits through the house.
                             
                             SASHA (CONT.)
                But...shouldn't he move on to
                the next world?
                             
                             TRIXIE
                Oh no...he loves you so much
                he's going to stay right here.
      
      Sasha sags onto the couch while Nick makes a high-five
      dance right next to her.
                             
                             TRIXIE (CONT.)
                I'll just do the smudging and
                be gone.
      
      The psychic takes incense out of her bag.
                             
                             NICK
                Smudging. That's incense. I
                hate incense.
                             
                             SASHA
                Smudge away!
                             
                             NICK
                You're just doing this to annoy
                me, am I right?
      
      Sasha sticks her tongue out at him. Nick stomps around
      in a fury. Trixie smudges.
      
      

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