Confessions of Love, After the Fact

EXT. MUSEUM - DAY 

SAMANTHA (25) leans against a pillar by the stairs to the entrance, staring at the smoke she exhales after each drag of her cigarette. GEORGE (26) comes up the steps scruffily but not dishevelled.

GEORGE

Sami?

SAMANTHA

Oh fuck, George! My God…

SAMANTHA draws in a final puff of smoke before dashing her cigarette on the pavement. She draws herself up straighter, then goes in for a hug.

SAMANTHA (CONT’D)

What are you doing here?

GEORGE

I’m actually doing a talk! Yeah, it’s about bones and shit. So, yeah…

SAMANTHA

Wow, sounds very professional. 

GEORGE

Well, I feel like you’d have taken the piss even more if I explained it properly. What are you doing here anyway?

SAMANTHA

Heard there was a really cool talk about bones and shit going on tonight, thought I’d drop by.

GEORGE

Hmm, really? I guess I’ll see you there then?

SAMANTHA

Oooo, now I think about it, I actually have this thing called… a life… to get back to. Might have to reschedule for some other time.

GEORGE

Can’t believe you’re already bullying me, aren’t you supposed to be nice to people you haven’t seen in two years?

SAMANTHA

Aren’t you supposed to be interesting?

GEORGE

What are you doing this evening?

SAMANTHA

I’ve got work until eight.

GEORGE

And then?

SAMANTHA

And then I’m going home.

GEORGE

Or, you could come meet me, and we could go out for a drink, instead of you pulling this mysterious tortured artist shit.

SAMANTHA

If I were trying to pull tortured artist shit, you’d know. I’d have a palette knife in my hair and only answer in rhyme.

GEORGE

I’ll meet you at the King George at nine.

GEORGE turns to go. He half looks back, shakes his head, and continues into the museum. SAMANTHA hugs her arms to herself and leans back against the pillar.

EXT. KING GEORGE - NIGHT 

It’s a pub that mumbles its existence, it isn’t too busy, but it has life to it always. SAMANTHA stands outside, smoking once again. She is in the same clothes as earlier, but has applied a subtle layer of make-up. GEORGE walks down the street towards her, he starts to jog once he notices she’s there. He has a different shirt on to the one he wore earlier. It’s nicer, but crinkled slightly from drying at an odd angle.

GEORGE

Hi! Sorry, I’m late. I thought I ought to tidy myself up a bit, and only realised how stupid that was once I’d got back to the hotel.

SAMANTHA looks at him with an undertone of disappointment. Then straightens up and stubs out her cigarette.

SAMANTHA

No, you made the right choice. Look a little less like a nerd.

GEORGE

Yeah, yeah. You smoke now?

SAMANTHA

Only on special occasions.

GEORGE

What’s so special about today?

SAMANTHA

I bumped into you, of course.

GEORGE

How cute. If I buy you a drink, will you stop lying to me?

SAMANTHA

I’ll consider it.

INT. KING GEORGE - NIGHT

SAMANTHA and GEORGE are seated at the bar He nurses a beer, she has a J20. There are no patrons in the seats near to them, but faint chatter underscores their conversation.

GEORGE

I, uh, forgot you don’t drink.

SAMANTHA

Like to stick to one vice at a time.

GEORGE

Oh yeah? What was your vice back in the day then?

SAMANTHA

Arrogance.

GEORGE

That… makes a lot of sense. It’s really good to see you again.

SAMANTHA

You too. Go on then, let’s get it over with, what have you been up to over the past couple years.

GEORGE

Let’s see. I went to Edinburgh for my MA. I started researching bone decay. Department set me on to a PhD in Manchester. Been teaching, writing, doing some outreach. Oh, you’ll love this— joined a band.

SAMANTHA

A band?

GEORGE

You’re looking at the lead guitarist of Feeble Joints. Play the local every month to our adoring fan.

SAMANTHA

Haha. You’re so middle-aged! 

GEORGE

I haven’t even told you about my silicone kitchen utensils, yet!

SAMANTHA

God, it’s so weird to think of you as a functioning adult. Even got hobbies. 

GEORGE smiles fondly and SAMANTHA pretends not to notice.

SAMANTHA (CONT’D)

Please tell me you can at least play the guitar, now? Last I remember you were still playing the same four chords on repeat. And your tiny little fingers couldn’t always reach the strings… So cute.

GEORGE 

My fingering is just fine, thank you.

SAMANTHA

‘Kay, I take back what I said about you being an adult. You’re still two, clearly.

GEORGE 

Two but still… more successful than you? 

SAMANTHA

Success is subjective.

GEORGE

Well, I’m the one with an all-expenses paid trip to talk about his research.

SAMANTHA

That’s… Yeah that’s pretty successful. You just here for today then? 

GEORGE

No, I’m around tomorrow. Getting a tour of the museum, plus access to their archives for a couple hours, too. But I’ll, uh, be free for a bit during the day, and in the evening as well if you wanted to hang out again. Before I disappear.

SAMANTHA

Sure. I can probably get away with taking a long lunch. And I have, no, no plans for the evening.

GEORGE

Nice. Cool. 

The pair take a swig of their drinks, both smiling into their glasses as they face front. Then place their glasses on the bar, recovering themselves before facing one another.

GEORGE (CONT’D)

Tell me what you’ve been up to, then?

SAMANTHA

Eh, all sorts. Too much. 

GEORGE

Yeah?

SAMANTHA

Moved into a place with a mate last year. Been painting in my spare time. My flatmate is a proper socialite, so I hardly see her, set up an easel in the living room she’s out so much. And the rest of the time… curating, administrating, living. Um, I’ve gotten into synthpop lately. Turns out all the good songs are synth.

GEORGE

Synth?

SAMANTHA

Don’t believe me?

GEORGE

You went through a K-Pop phase, of course I don’t.

SAMANTHA

O’ ye of little faith. 

SAMANTHA takes out her earphones from her bag. She gives one side to GEORGE and the other she puts in her own ear.

SAMANTHA (CONT’D)

Here.

West End Girls by The Pet Shop Boys begins to play. We zoom out to a mid-shot of them at the bar, side by side, listening and occasionally glancing at one another to see their reaction. SAMANTHA starts to tap the tune on her glass.

MONTAGE:

SAMANTHA and GEORGE walk around the city at night, bumping shoulders and laughing.

A kebab shop: the pair talking and eating.  Under the table, their legs accidentally touch and then jerk away. 

In the museum: SAMANTHA looks bemused while GEORGE is clearly in the midst of an explanation of something, his hands gesticulating wildly. 

Reversed in the gallery: GEORGE looks on fondly while SAMANTHA gesticulates in slow calculated movements to explain the pieces.

First shots of their faces are shown, and then the body parts that take precedence in each scene.

EXT. HOTEL - NIGHT

GEORGE and SAMANTHA stand opposite one another in the doorway, silhouetted by the harsh light of the lobby. She leans against the wall, her hands tucked behind her back. He stands straight and watches her without watching her. 

SAMANTHA

Sounds like the time you tried to make that film in second year. All that work you’d put into that one take, and then you never finished editing it…

GEORGE

You– I’d forgotten all about that. 

SAMANTHA

That was when I decided you probably wouldn’t make it past twenty seven.

GEORGE

Hmm, still got a year to go. Better stay in touch just to make sure you’re right.

SAMANTHA

No need.

GEORGE looks at her inquisitively, refusing to divert her from the thought.

SAMANTHA (CONT’D)

I know I’m wrong, now. You’re going to live till you’re one hundred and four, wrinkled up like some foul prune, wishing you had stayed as useless as you were when you were young.

GEORGE

Always wanting the best for me.

SAMANTHA

I gave up on wishing the best for you a long time ago.

GEORGE

Okay. Well, it’s been lovely to see you again.

GEORGE had been joking, but something shifts in SAMANTHA, she stares at the ground, trying to put up a façade of normalcy.

SAMANTHA

Yeah.

GEORGE

We should stay in touch properly this time.

SAMANTHA

Yeah.

GEORGE’s jaw tightens. He nods, then goes to enter the hotel. SAMANTHA’s eyes flicker to him, then she pushes off the wall and moves to go. GEORGE sees her movement and then turns.

GEORGE

Hey, wait.

SAMANTHA

Hmm.

GEORGE

I, uh, I’m angry with you.

SAMANTHA

What?

GEORGE

I’m really angry with you.

SAMANTHA searches his face, then replies, slowly.

SAMANTHA

Okay. I’m sorry.

GEORGE

What are you sorry for?

SAMANTHA

I don’t– I don’t know, George. Why don’t you tell me?

GEORGE

I’m angry that you never tell me the truth. That you never say how you feel–

SAMANTHA

And you do? Are you seriously fucking talking to me about sharing your feelings? How’s your fucking girlfriend, George?

GEORGE

Wha– What does she have to do with this? 

SAMANTHA 

You haven’t mentioned her once today. So, did you not want me to know or are you bored to death of her? Because this is what you do, George. You leave the door open. You say goodnight, but you leave the door open. 

GEORGE

I don’t leave… the door open. I don’t even know what that means.

SAMANTHA

If you don’t know what it means, then why are you angry with me?

GEORGE

 You know what? I– I just wish that we could say it.

SAMANTHA hangs her head. She slowly crouches, letting her fingers fall to clutch at the grass.

GEORGE (CONT’D)

I wish I could say it, without changing anything. And changing everything. I don’t know what to do.

SAMANTHA

 We’re supposed to just do nothing. That’s how we play this game. That’s how we’ve always played it. You’re breaking the rules, and it’s making us both feel shitty.

GEORGE

Doesn’t it make you feel shitty to not say?

SAMANTHA

At least not saying it keeps things the same.

GEORGE

But I know without you saying.

SAMANTHA

So do I. But… it’s different. There are dimensions of saying.

GEORGE

We might as well, now. We’ve as good as said it.

SAMANTHA

No.

GEORGE

Sami. I l–

SAMANTHA stands up and pushes GEORGE up against the wall, one hand flying to cover his mouth, the other to pin his wrist. He hits his head gently and she lets go, taking a step back as if stung.

GEORGE (CONT’D)

Ow.

SAMANTHA’s mouth curls, she sniffs, amused, then begins to laugh as she walks away.

GEORGE (CONT’D)

It’s not funny, that hurt.

INT. HOTEL - NIGHT

The elevator is broken. GEORGE is walking up the stairwell. He’s on the tenth floor. He climbs up the steps slowly. When he gets to his floor, he stops, doesn’t let himself push through into the corridor. Instead, he sets himself on the last step, leans forward to rest his arms on his knees.

After a few seconds, the phone rings.

SAMANTHA is on the other end.

SAMANTHA

How did you know?

(beat)

GEORGE

You used to be more obvious. Never explicit, but obvious. There was only ever enough uncertainty in your intentions for plausible deniability.

SAMANTHA

What did I do?

GEORGE

You would say how much you enjoyed our time together.

You would look at me. Look at me like you really saw me, or like you wanted to. And you always remembered everything. I would start telling a story or recounting something that had happened, and you’d echo me. Add in things I had forgotten. Things you’d only notice if you were really paying attention… 

And, um, there was this one time – I only realised afterward – but we never touched in a way that just had to be intentional, and I only noticed because I reached over to adjust your fingers– you were pretending to be spiderman for some reason– and you twitched when we connected. And it clicked in my head; we’d been desperately, pathologically, avoiding contact. It was just a second, but it all came to me then.

SAMANTHA

What a loser…

GEORGE

You asked me to tell you.

SAMANTHA

Not you, dumbass. Me. 

INT. SAMANTHA’S ROOM - CONTINUOUS

SAMANTHA is sitting on the floor by her bed with her knees drawn to her chest. Her head lies propped backwards on her bed. The lights haven’t been turned on, but the moonlight cuts through her blinds, slicing her into strips. Her phone is on speaker. From here the camera cuts between the two locations as they speak.

SAMANTHA (CONT’D)

I didn’t think you’d remember anything. I thought I was more subtle than that. I tried to be. I didn’t want to ruin anything, it was so perfect as it was. I didn’t want you to change how you saw me, but I couldn’t keep it in.

GEORGE

I remember more than I thought. 

GEORGE leans his head against the stair railing.

GEORGE (CONT’D)

Not as much as you, though.

SAMANTHA

Hmm. I remember too much.

GEORGE

Tell me what– When you…

SAMANTHA

I think it was right at the start. A couple of weeks in. We were at the pub – we always were back then. I whispered something under my breath. It happened too many times and too long ago for me to remember what. I didn’t think anyone was listening. I liked to amuse myself more than anyone else. 

GEORGE

And…

SAMANTHA

And you laughed. It was nice.

GEORGE closes his eyes against the image and lets out a short sigh. The statement makes him pause. Then we cut back to SAMANTHA, who has lifted her head up and turned so that she is crouched beside her bed, where her phone remains laying on the blanket. Her lips almost graze the speaker of her phone.

SAMANTHA (CONT’D)

Night, George.

GEORGE

Night, Sami.