Not Yet

--  This is the first of the "Influence" pieces.  That's right, 1 out of 100.  Why do I always have to take on massive projects?  This coming from a guy who named his college theater company "Epic."  My first influence was easy to pick.  I consider her one of the best actresses of all time, and without a doubt, the most likable.  Breakfast at Tiffany's is one of my favorite movies, and the scene with her singing "Moon River" is a movie in and of itself.  So when it came time to write something dealing with my love of Audrey Hepburn, it didn't take long to figure out what I wanted to do.  She's one of those people you wish had made more movies (you know, the exact opposite of Heather Graham) and so I thought I'd write her one more movie...but that could take a year, so instead, I'll write her final line in the movie.

Picture it--a little old woman, still gorgeous, sitting at a small table at a Parisian cafe.  She's just spent the past few days traveling around the city and meeting all sorts of people.  She's clearly sad about something, but hasn't told anyone what.  As she sits at the table, a waiter approaches.  It's very early in the morning, and music starts to play as the camera focuses on her face.

"Not Yet"

Do you know

I've never been to Paris?

Not until now

And not even now

Not really

I haven't been to the Paris

I thought I'd go to

When I bought my ticket

A few months ago

When I did that

It was a different Paris

I thought I'd see

I'm a silly old woman

With grand thoughts

I suppose

I'm silly because

I wanted to take a train

All around Europe

But my children

Worried for my health

So instead

Just Paris

And not even the real Paris

Nobody was very romantic

Not to me anyway

Not even once

I don't know what I expected

I'm not some spring chicken

But I don't feel old

Not a bit

And so sometimes I forget I look it

I walk around like I'm nineteen

And wait for some nice man

To ask me into a carriage

Or a gondola or something

Which is foolish

They don't have gondolas in Paris

Not that I've seen anyway

Nobody wears berets

Nobody paints on the sidewalks

Nobody is rude

It's not the Paris I dreamed of at all

. . . . .

I dreamed of a man

Who would look like William Holden

Do you remember William Holden?

Or are you too young?

You're a sweet boy

For listening to an old woman

Old enough to be your grandmother

And an American woman too

Do you even understand what I'm saying?

Oh, you're smiling

That means 'No'

I've learned that much here

Still

You must have heard of William Holden

Even here in Paris

He was wonderfully handsome

I had such a crush on him

When I was a girl

When I got married

I remember being distinctly disappointed

That I hadn't married William Holden

William Holden?

No?

No

I can see you don't understand

You're either too young

Or you say his name differently

In French

He seemed like a lovely man

A bit of a cad

But so dashing

Not like my late husband

Nicholas was also lovely

But terribly dull

A bore

Four weeks after we were married

I bought a ticket to Paris

Ready to run off

In search of a French William Holden

Whether he was real or not

I didn't know

I didn't care

I just knew I had to leave

My father met me at the airport

He walked me back to his car

And brought me home

To my husband

And we never talked about it

About me running away

None of us ever talked about it

Never about anything

We never did

Here

Sit down

You've been standing this whole time

Sit

Sit

You must understand sit

Sometimes I think

That my father knew then

And that's why he didn't let me leave

He could see I was pregnant

Even though it had only been four weeks

He knew

And that was why he couldn't let me get on the plane

Even as I cried

Cried

Begging him to let me go

I knew he hated seeing me cry

My mother could watch me cry for days

She was a cruel women

I'm afraid to say

But I was his little girl

And I was so unhappy

All I wanted was to leave

And he didn't let me

And never a word was spoken

And I hated him

Until the day he died

. . . . .

It's a pretty place

Paris

Especially now

Now that I'm leaving

My plane takes off

In a few hours

And I'm not sure

If I haven't seen enough

Or if there's just nothing else to see

I saw the museums

I saw the exhibits

I saw the Eiffel Tower

Everything but what I wanted to see

I wanted to see

What I saw in my wildest hopes

What I thought I missed

When I was home

Raising children

Being a wife

Hating everything

I thought there was a party here

A glorious party

That I wasn't going to

And maybe there was

Maybe I've just arrived too late

What a sad thought that is

. . . . .

Get me an eclair, darling boy

Eclair?

That you know

I'm sure you know 'tip' as well

You'll get a good one

I haven't spent much on this trip

Not nearly as much as I could have

I contemplated going through

My children's inheritance

While I was here

But I haven't

I'm old

But I'm not mean

Not yet

'Not yet'

I suppose those two words

Are what keep people hopeful

While you're alive

There are so many trips you can take

As long as you have a few days in you

And an English-to-something dictionary

And a bit of adventure in you

You're not dead

You're not old

You're not done

'Not yet'

An eclair, darling boy

I might have places to go to yet