Scene 43 - Last Supper

(Slow, horizontal dolly along frosted glass window outside of restaurant in hotel. Sounds of people dining. It looks to be the late morning. Bright and sunny.. There is a skylight in the center of restaurant. This scene begins with some sedate reggae music.)

(At end of dolly we see Bruce and Mary inside of restaurant seated at table. The restaurant is sparsely filled with other diners. A few waitpeople wearing their black pants and white shirts are milling around. Burce and Mary have just started to peruse the menu. The music described above fades.)

Bruce: Now, remember, tomorrow morning is your first game. (Looks up with a cautious gaze) Careful with the chile.

(Mary makes face of dread.)

(Bruce continues looking at menu. Kind of a leisurely Sunday morning feel to the pace, established by Bruce's mannerisms.)

(Mary looks around at the restaurant)

(A lone steel-string guitarist is setting up at the forefront of restaurant. He is about to sing a folk song in Spanish.)

(Mary turns head back to Bruce. Touches his arm.)

Mary: Ooh. He's going to play some music.

(Bruce looks up, smiling. His eyes then rest on Mary.)

(Mary returns Bruce's gaze. She then flips her head down quickly, to pick up the name of an entree she's decided upon eating.)

Mary: What's Pesce...? (She points at the menu as she speaks.)

Bruce: (Looking at menu) It's a fish dish. Baked. High protein. Not much fat. Lots of carbohydrate garnishings. Not a bad choice for brunch. Sounds good.

(Mary flips her hair. She tucks it behind her ear, still looking at menu.)

(Waitress appears, smiling at the two.)

Mary: (Still pointing to menu) I'll have the Pesce... (botches the pronunciation again.)

(Waitress corrects her.)

Mary: Yeah, I'll have that thing.

Waitress: Sir?

(Bruce gives his selection.)

Waitress: Would you like to take advantage of our champagne brunch?

(Mary glances up, sheepishly, looking at Bruce.)

Bruce: Sure. Two glasses?

Waitress: Uh, o-kay. (Waitress glances over at Mary as she collects the menus, then smiles. She turns to Bruce.) Let's hope some of it finds your mouth this time.

(Bruce smiles at this.)

Mary: What was that all about?

Bruce: Carol threw some wine on me the other day. At this very table.

Mary: (Laughing) Really? Wow, what a bitch. Sounds like she made a scene.

Bruce: Yes, she made a scene, alright. Don't grow up to be like her, okay?

Mary: Oh, don't worry about that. (She leans forward, whispers) So they're going to serve us champagne.

Bruce: Well, it's a holiday. And like all festive occasions, it requires a toast.

(Guitarist starts up.)

Mary: To us?

Bruce: (Looking around, smiling) To everyone.

Mary: Guess that about covers it, huh?

(Bruce looks up, smiles.)

Mary: I don't want to go back to California.

Bruce: Oh come on. It's a wonderful life you have back there.

Mary: But I don't want to be treated like a kid anymore. Have to go to school and everything.

Bruce: Oh, school's not so bad, it is? And it's great for your mom. Safe, reliable child care officially sanctioned by the State of California and the Catholic Church.

(Close-up of guitarist. He's playing a somber, very melodic song. He is singing in Spanish.) (Back to the table. They now have champagne, chips and water.) Bruce: Anyway, if you weren't going to school you'd probably be off getting yourself into all kinds of trouble. Or, worse yet, you'd have to go to work, which would be downright awful. You wouldn't get to read or have any fun or anything. Unless or course you were a teacher. (Mary smiles at this. She tucks her hair back behind her ear, touches Bruce on the arm, then looks up, curious.)

Mary: Today's Sunday, huh?

Bruce: Uh huh. All day.

Mary: (Opens eyes wide) I was going to tell you something.

Bruce: What?

Mary: I can't remember now.

(Pause)

(Close up of Bruce, looking idle)

Mary: (Musing) So tomorrow's Monday.

Bruce: That's right. (Smiles) Spiritus Mundi.

Mary: (Smiles in an expectant manner, knowing that what Bruce has just said must be a joke, but she's still waiting for the punch line. She tucks her hair behind her ear one last time. Laughs nervously.) I don't get it.

(Close up of guitarist completing song. Close up of his fingers as he plays. Freeze frame of his fingers as he plays the final chord of the song, which resonates with a high-pitched transient, generated by fingers sliding across steels strings. This transient is looped with a gradual fade. The credits roll in front of a still frame of the guitarist's hands, which gradually fades to black. The credits continue to a black background and the muted sound of ocean surf.)

The End