EXT. HOSPITAL PARKING LOT - MIDDAY
Expensive, suburban cars of doctors and nurses are parked neatly in rows. A bright sun reflects off the hoods of grey, black, and white Priuses and Jeeps. Reflecting the most offensive glow is a beat-up red 1980's Toyota Supra.
CLOSE ON TOYOTA SUPRA
Through the ashy windows of the car, sunlight glinting off dust and grime, we see a backseat stacked with boxes and a woman sitting in the front seat. Her profile stares straight ahead, her two hands firmly on the wheel. Her natural ginger red hair is buzzed almost to her scalp. Blondie's "Heart of Glass" sounds lightly from within the car.
INT. CAR - MIDDAY
Blondie's soundtrack is almost deafening--the bass reverberates around AJ, the woman in the driver's seat. AJ stares forward at the entrance of "CROTHER'S HOSPITAL" with a contradicted expression of longing and apathy. She rubs her head absentmindedly with her left hand while her unoccupied fingers tap the steering wheel to the beats of the music.
Her tapping encroaches on the rhythm, her fingers going too fast for the chorus.
AJ
(shakily)
Lost inside... Mm mm mm. And I cannot
hide...
The tapping turns into a full grip on the wheel; she bows her head and lets out a scream from deep within her. Her spine follows the movement of the scream until she is sitting up straight again. A deep hoarse cough trudges up from her throat. She reaches to the console and slams the radio off.
Still coughing, AJ turns to the backseat. About a dozen half open cardboard boxes, clothes spilling out of a few of them, sit across her backseat. She searches through a few of them before finding a HOSPITAL VISITOR PASS, its lamination scratched and dented.
She reaches into the tallest stacked box and rifles through pictures and CDs. She pulls out a bright yellow CD case titled "HANK WILLIAMS: 40 GREATEST HITS." Bringing the case to her heart, she opens it and slides the CD into the radio without looking away from the entrance to the hospital.
2.
MUSIC: HANK WILLIAMS'S "SETTIN' THE WOODS ON FIRE"
AJ slides the hospital pass around her neck. In the ID photo, her hair is longer, but the blank expression is consistent.
INT. HOSPITAL - MIDDAY
AJ walks into the harsh fluorescence of the hospital lobby, its light unaffected by the natural sun pouring in. Her shoulders are slumped and she appears like a fairy with a broken wing: a pretty pixie with the harshness of life washed across her face.
She turns down a hallway where a fat-faced SECURITY GUARD, not much taller than her, holds a palm out to her. AJ holds the VISITOR PASS up to his face and smiles unnaturally at him. He lets her pass, moved by the severity of her expression.
INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - MIDDAY
The walls of the room are stark white. Cow skins, macrame owls, and framed paintings of early American landscapes fill the void. Besides the remnants of old Western memorabilia, the room is still that of a hospital. A beaten metal crow lives on a dinky laminate wood dresser. JAMESON, a sixty something who once had the frame and strength of a linebacker, who now only has the frame of a linebacker, sits on the corner of a white-linen bed. He's clad in a dark grey button down, roughly-hewn dungarees, and an oxygen tank.
JAMESON focuses his attention on John Wayne's "The Shootist" playing from a small television set in the corner of the room. From the TV, we hear: "You have two ways of leaving this establishment, my friend."
AJ appears small in the door frame, over a foot shorter from JAMESON even sitting down. She dawdles over the threshold.
JAMESON
(with the TV)
Immediately or dead!
AJ
Knock, knock.
She coughs gently into her elbow. JAMESON focuses still on the film.
JAMESON
Hey there, crackerjack.
AJ
Hi, Dad.
AJ crosses to the bed. She rests a hand on JAMESON's shoulder and kisses him on the cheek. Sounds of gunshots come from the TV.
JAMESON
I ain't turning around. Mama told me
you cut your hair.
AJ runs a hand over her shaved head.
JAMESON (CONTINUED)
You look like a dy-
AJ
(interrupting him)
Been like this for awhile. (beat)
What're you watching?
JAMESON
Greatest movie of all time.
AJ slips her shoes off and climbs onto the bed. She pulls her legs over and scoots back to sit on the pillow, her feet resting next to JAMESON.
AJ
You want to tell me what it's call-
She doubles over in a full coughing fit. JAMESON turns at that. He reaches into his nose to take out the breathing tubes.
AJ
St-, Stop. Stop!
JAMESON
Seems like you need this more than me.
She fumbles for the glass of water on his nightstand, its laminate wood a hue darker than the dresser. AJ tries to down the water, her coughs lessening in severity with each swallow.
JAMESON
It's . The Shootist
AJ looks up, her breathing now steadied.
AJ
What is?
JAMESON
You asked the name of the movie.
JAMESON motions toward the TV. AJ looks around him as if she had never noticed the TV before that moment.
JAMESON (CONTINUED)
John Wayne. The Duke. Greatest movie
of all time.
The music in the film changes a chord. AJ drops the glass on the floor. The cracking of plastic mixes with the sounds of gunshots.
JAMESON (CONTINUED)
Bad cold, or-
AJ
No.
AJ kneels to retrieve the fallen cup. She leans her arms onto the bed, slowly picking herself up from the floor.
JAMESON
You didn't call me last night.
AJ
I didn't? Oh-I must've been...
Her thought trails off.
JAMESON
Last time was two weeks ago.
AJ
My fault then.
AJ gets up and grazes her hand over the macrame owl.
On the TV screen, John Wayne as J.B. Brooks fights off several intruders from his room at a bed and breakfast.
AJ
What's with all the violence in these
old westerns?
JAMESON keeps one hand on his oxygen tank as he slowly faces back to the TV.
JAMESON
Well, this ain't really a Western.
More like the Western to end all
Westerns. Duke's playing the man he
always wanted to be all along. Livin'
out his legacy.
JAMESON coughs lightly. AJ crosses over to adjust his oxygen tank. He caresses her face. She smiles at him, with true warmth and only a hint of hostility.
AJ
Living out his legacy? What is he
dying or something?
JAMESON stands up from the bed, his six-foot frame looming over AJ. The paleness of his skin and the tubing in his nose doesn't lessen the force of his being. He drags the oxygen tank to the TV and mutes it. He nods solemnly at AJ.
JAMESON
(in a Southern drawl)
Of a cancer
AJ paces to the other side of the room. She fingers the cow skin on the wall, grazing the hide with frail fingers.
AJ
Ha.
JAMESON
AJ, it's been a month since I've seen
you. You've got a bad cough. Your
hair's all short. Gone, really. It's
all gone. You could've at least called
me.
AJ claws the fringe of the skin.
AJ
I thought I did call you. (beat)
Honestly, I don't remember whether I
called you or not. I shaved my head
and didn't notice until a few days
later.
AJ bursts into sobs, her whole body shivering and shaking.
AJ
(through tears)
I'm moving out... of... state.
JAMESON slowly joins her by the cow skin.
JAMESON
AJ. I don't have that much time left.
AJ hits her hand on the wall, in the center of the cow skin. The fabric ripples slightly.
AJ
I don't give a shit about your time
anymore.
CU: TV
John Wayne and Ron Howard talk in a stable in "The Shootist." Dark silhouettes are cast on their faces as they communicate sternly and mutely with one another.
INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - LATER
JAMESON sits at the foot of the bed, his head in his hands. The room feels still and sterile even with JAMESON's cowboy decorations. The TV is paused on a still of John Wayne later in the film. A soft clanging of metal and the flow of water sounds from behind the closed bathroom door.
JAMESON turns his head up for a moment, his oxygen tubes tangled around his mouth.
JAMESON
You alright in there?
At that moment, the bathroom door opens. Yellow light pours out, illuminating AJ in the doorway. She grips the door frame before stepping out towards her father.
AJ
Don't say anything.
JAMESON raises his hands up in either a silent prayer or a treaty for peace. AJ walks carefully over to the bed and sits beside her father. She reaches behind him for the remote and resumes the film.
JAMESON
He's not living out his legacy.
AJ
How do you mean?
JAMESON
He succumbed to his stomach cancer a
few years after this came out.
AJ
Isn't he dying in the movie?
JAMESON
They're both dying. The Duke and JB
Books... That's who he's playing.
AJ
He didn't succumb.
JAMESON
Hm?
AJ
Like, did he have a choice? I feel
like "succumb" implies he had a choice
in giving up. It's fucking-
JAMESON
AJ.
AJ
-stomach cancer. It just took him. He
didn't succumb.
JAMESON laughs morosely.
JAMESON
I plan on succumbing.
AJ gets up, leaning half her body weight into the bed for support. She crosses over to fumble with the metal crow on the dresser.
AJ
You have lung cancer. It's going to
take you.
JAMESON becomes agitated, his face turning a shade redder. He turns his body to face AJ. The movement stresses his body and he takes a moment before responding.
JAMESON
And what is the fucking problem with
that, Amelia Jo?
AJ clutches the crow at her heart. She coughs lightly into the crook of her elbow.
AJ
(through coughs)
Dad, I-
She continues coughing. A spit of blood falls onto the head of the crow. She rushes back to the bathroom-its light still shining from within.
JAMESON
You're not moving! You can visit me
more. Take up some space, girl. Look
at these digs. Room service. In-house
entertainment.
From behind JAMESON, we see through the bathroom doorway. AJ turns on the faucet and pulls some paper towels from a holder. She scrubs the blood off the head of the crow and looks at herself in the mirror.
AJ
I'm moving for treatment.
JAMESON tries to get up from the bed. AJ turns off the bathroom light. She approaches JAMESON accusingly.
AJ (CONTINUED)
For months I knew something was wrong
and still you made me visit you. For
years I've been visiting you in here.
Are you even sick? Like the way I'm
sick?
Jameson protests silently.
AJ (CONTINUED)
You have this real illness that you're
going to "succumb" to. Sure. Lung
cancer. Stomach cancer. So high and
mighty. Dying on the roof of your tall
tower.
JAMESON
A real illness? What is yours: fake?
What? Do you have the flu, AJ?
AJ
You've ignored this for months. The
memory loss. The weight loss. My hair
falling out. I buzzed it because I
couldn't stand getting in the shower
every night and seeing the tile
covered in strands of red. I have
AIDS, Dad. Can you please say it with
me, Mr. Cowboy?
She coughs at the end of her speech.
JAMESON
Go wash your mouth.
AJ
Excuse me?
JAMESON
You'll get blood everywhere.
AJ silently returns the metal crow to its home on the dresser. She sits back on the other side of the bed as her father and reaches down to put her shoes on.
AJ
My car is packed.
JAMESON
Good riddance then.
He playfully taps her shoulder with his knuckles. She shudders.
JAMESON and AJ sit back to back on the bed. JAMESON's frame is immense compared to AJ's. She looks like a flightless bird struggling to get her shoes on and readying herself to take flight.
She stands from the bed, again steadying herself. JAMESON continues watching the film with his back to her. She walks towards the doorway to the hall. Her back is to him.
AJ
If the great John Wayne had made it to
the '80s, would he mourn a generation
lost? Would you, Dad? You sit here
reveling in your nostalgia and ignore
the importance of the thing right in
front of you.
JAMESON turns to answer her question, but AJ is gone.
the END.
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