(SAM
is standing on a bridge. AMY
approaches him.)
AMY: Don’t
jump.
(She startles him so much he almost
jumps off the bridge he wasn’t intending to jump off.)
SAM: What the
hell is wrong with you?
AMY: I thought
you were going to—
SAM: I’m just standing
on a bridge!
AMY: That’s
weird!
SAM: That’s not
weird! Some people stand on
bridges!
AMY: Nobody
does that!
SAM: Then what
are you doing?
AMY: In case
you hadn’t noticed, everybody just abandoned all their cars on this stupid
bridge so they could try running to safety before the comet comes down like
there’s anywhere to go. So my car
is trapped here and because I’m not just going to leave it, I’ve been sitting
in it for the past six hours listening to every podcast I ever said I was going
to listen to but never thought I would.
Then I saw you and I thought—Is your car here too?
SAM: No, I
really do just like bridges. They
make me feel nice.
AMY: They make
me feel nice? Who taught you to
speak?
SAM: Can you
just walk away now? You’re not
pleasant.
AMY: I’m
sorry. I’ve been listening to NPR
for six hours. I’m indignant and
neurotic and I think I developed a speech impediment.
SAM: Do you
want to sit down?
AMY: Where
would I sit?
SAM: Gee, I
don’t know. In one of the many, many parked cars?
AMY: Do you
think everything’s just going to stay this way?
SAM: What way?
AMY:
Stopped. Like this. Everything just—suspended?
SAM: Does it
upset you?
AMY: I can’t
move my car.
SAM: Does it go
any deeper than your car?
AMY: I’d like
to not die either.
SAM: We’re not
talking about death. We’re talking
about what comes before death.
This—this comes before death.
AMY: Are you
not…worried?
SAM: I’m in
denial.
AMY: I didn’t
know you could be aware of denial.
SAM: Please, I
practically summoned the denial. I
put it on like a hat this morning.
Oh? We’re all going to
die. Great. Let me just get my denial and I’ll be
all set. Then I started
walking. I walked here. I don’t have a car.
AMY: I’m Amy.
SAM: I’m Sam.
AMY: I feel
like I know you.
SAM: That’s
because we’ve been talking for a few minutes before we thought to introduce
ourselves. Nobody wants to waste
time with stupid stuff like introductions now that time is—running away from
us.
AMY: So you really
like bridges?
SAM: I really
do.
AMY: Do you
ever think—I wonder if I could make it.
Like, if I jumped, could I survive it? Could I beat the odds?
I mean, I wonder if anybody who killed themselves wasn’t really trying
to kill themselves or even really wanted to kill themselves but really just
wanted to see if they could tempt fate and cheat death and they just—lost. You know?
SAM: You’re
very pretty.
AMY: Are you
drunk?
SAM: I tried
getting drunk, but it didn’t work.
You can’t drink away the end of the world.
AMY: Is that
why you seem sad?
SAM: I’m sad
because you seem exactly like the kind of girl I really wanted to meet sometime
before I thought I had no time left to meet her. God that doesn’t even make sense.
AMY: Oh my God,
you’re right. It’s true. You’re my type. You’re totally my type and we’re
meeting here in this fortuitous way, on a bridge, which is so cinematic, and
it’s tragic because we’re going to die.
God, we should just jump.
SAM: Stop
talking about jumping. Nobody’s
jumping.
AMY: And you’re
practical. You’re practical and
logical and not dramatic. You’re
probably my soulmate. This sucks.
SAM: Maybe it’s
helpful. I mean, if I met you in
any other kind of situation you might have just walked right by me. I mean, nothing about me screams
‘special’ upon immediate inspection.
AMY: Listen to
you talk. This is killing me.
SAM: At least
we know, right? We know who our
‘one’ is. You’re my one. I love you, Amy.
AMY: Okay,
let’s not go crazy.
SAM: I think we
need to go crazy. We could have
hours left. You want to find a
minister and make this official?
AMY: Sam—
SAM: Or we
could go sky-diving?
AMY: Never
mind. You’re not practical or
logical and you’re definitely dramatic, even though it’s sweet. It’s sweet, but it would also,
ultimately, not work for me, because I need somebody to complement me not be
just like me. Opposites attract. I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is
going to work.
SAM: But we’re
soulmates.
AMY: I don’t
think that anymore. I mean, I know
I did, like, four seconds ago, but that was in the heat of the moment when I
thought you were a lost soul and I was your salvation and then I thought I was
this hyper random girl with great comic timing and you were my straight man and
now you’re the wacky one and I’d have to be the Dean Martin and I’m not really
feeling that. I’m going back to my
car. You can come too if you want,
but it has to be platonic. I mean,
we can make out if you want, but that’s it, nothing more, okay?
(A
beat.)
SAM: That was
the best relationship I’ve ever had.
AMY: Me
too. And I was married once.
SAM: You were?
AMY: Yeah,
crazy-right-out-of-high-school kind of thing. I wasn’t pregnant.
I thought I was, but I wasn’t.
C’mon, I’ll tell you all about it in the car.
SAM: Maybe we’ll
get to know each other and fall in love again.
AMY: Let’s not
rush it, okay? That’s the mistake
we made the first time.
SAM: You mean
five minutes ago?
AMY: God, it
seems like years. Years and years
and—
(They
walk off together.)
No comments:
Post a Comment