Authors: Melia McClure
The Delphi Room (19 page)
DAVIE
Fuck. Velvet! Hello!
He moves to her and kneels down, touches her face.
DAVIE
Hey, Vee. Look at me. Velvet.
Her eyes flicker as though changing trains in consciousness, jostled by station platform confusion. She looks at him, unseeing.
DAVIE
There’s no one here, Velcro Chenille. There’s no one but me.
Her stare is steady, unbroken blankness.
DAVIE
Fuck! I can’t. I can’t. Let’s sit on the bed.
Velvet’s eyes see his face, and her mouth smiles a smile that isn’t sure why it smiles. They move to the bed.
DAVIE
Hi.
VELVET
Hi.
DAVIE
There’s blood on your mouth. There’s nobody here but me.
VELVET
Of course not. Why would you say that?
DAVIE
Vee . . .
VELVET
I know there’s nobody. But he was here a second ago!
DAVIE
Okay, okay. Do you need to go to the hospital?
VELVET
Are you crazy? I’m not going back there.
(pointedly)
Who’s gonna visit me?
Davie looks away for a moment, then looks at Velvet and tries to smile.
DAVIE
(pause)
That’s a prizefighter’s lip you got there.
She touches her mouth.
VELVET
Do I look like Rocky?
DAVIE
Kind of. You ever bite me again I’ll have to kill you. Got it?
She nods.
VELVET
You’re really moving to L.A.?
DAVIE
You gonna come visit me? Swim in my pool?
VELVET
You’ve got a pool?
DAVIE
No. But I’m sure we could find one. And I’m getting a poodle.
VELVET
A poodle?
DAVIE
I’m gonna name it Come Back Little Sheba. I’ll call it Comeback for short.
VELVET
Comeback.
DAVIE
Yeah.
VELVET
Yeah.
INT. VELVET’S HELL—MIRROR—BRINKLEY’S BEDROOM—NIGHT
Brinkley stands before Clara, recipe cards and pen in hand. He is dressed in a black suit. On his bed sits a basket filled with his Cotswold cottage Kleenex dispenser, a bowl of salt, a bottle of aspirin, a wet cloth, a jar of pickles, a candle, matches, and a blue pillow.
CLARA BOW
You look real nice, baby, real nice. Where’s your hearse?
She laughs hysterically.
BRINKLEY
That’s not funny. You’re making me very nervous. Please stop laughing.
CLARA BOW
I’m sorry. You won’t hear another giggle outta me.
She snorts and dissolves into hysterics.
BRINKLEY
I mean it! Or I won’t speak to you anymore!
CLARA BOW
Don’t you threaten me, you little shit! You need me! You need me! Remember that. You can’t do none uh this without me.
BRINKLEY
I’m sorry, Clara, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But please don’t laugh. This is not a laughing matter.
CLARA BOW
Sometimes I get the giggles, I can’t help it. But they’re gone now. I can cry if you want. Would that get you in the mood? Just sing “Rock-a-bye Baby.”
BRINKLEY
“Rock-a-bye Baby”?
CLARA BOW
Yeah, I always ask them tuh play it for me on set. Makes me cry inna jiffy.
BRINKLEY
Why?
CLARA BOW
Makes me think uh my little friend that got burned up. His mother used ta sing it to ’im every night.
BRINKLEY
Oh. No wonder you cry. My mother never sang that song.
CLARA BOW
Neither did mine.
BRINKLEY
You look so beautiful.
CLARA BOW
Got my glad rags on. And my favourite gold heels, just fer you. They make me feel bettah. Fresh henna on my famous hair too.
BRINKLEY
You look like an angel.
CLARA BOW
Thank you.
You’re
an angel. Yer ma don’t deserve to have uh son so nice as you. Did you give ’er the triple scotch?
BRINKLEY
Yes.
CLARA BOW
And?
BRINKLEY
She’s asleep.
CLARA BOW
Showtime!
BRINKLEY
Clara?
CLARA BOW
That’s me.
BRINKLEY
I can’t.
CLARA BOW
Ya can’t what?
BRINKLEY
I can’t do this.
CLARA BOW
Sure ya can. Ya gotta. Ya don’t gotta choice in the matter. Sometimes ya gotta do what ya don’t wanna. It’s fer the best, baby, fer the best. Don’t ya wanna be free uh her? She don’t exactly make yer life a picnic. Never did. And how you evah gonna get to sleep with her drunk and cryin’ all the time?
He starts to cry, and his hands shake.
CLARA BOW
Whoa, baby, careful, don’t drop the cards!
Wipes his tears with recipe cards.
CLARA BOW
Honey, don’t smudge the instructions. For cryin’ out loud, Brinkley, pull yaself togethah. Quit bein’ a sap. Jeepers creepers, you’re as yella as they come. Have you done everythin’ written on the cards so far?
BRINKLEY
Yes. I’m just waiting for the Chinese food to arrive.
CLARA BOW
Mmm . . . yummy. I love chop suey. You bettah write down the rest of the instructions now.
BRINKLEY
Why do I need the cards if you’re coming with me?
CLARA BOW
’Cuz once we’re in the room, I won’t say nothin’ ’til she’s gone.
BRINKLEY
Why not?
CLARA BOW
’Cuz that’s the way it’s gotta be. Sometimes it’s bettah to be quiet. So you oughta write down the rest.
BRINKLEY
All right.
(pause)
I know you are correct about all of this. I’m just so tired.
He shuffles the cards until he finds a blank one, poises his pen. His shaking is getting worse.
CLARA BOW
’Course I’m right, kid. So let’s get down to business. I’ve never been in yer mother’s room before. I’m gettin’ uh little excited!
BRINKLEY
I never wanted to bring you in there. You’re both redheads, and you are so beautiful, and, well, my mother, she might not like that. She is beautiful too, extremely beautiful, but—
CLARA BOW
Ya don’t hafta explain it ta me. Now: whaddya need ta know?
BRINKLEY
What do I do with the blue pillow?
CLARA BOW
Whaddya mean whaddya do with it?
BRINKLEY
I mean, what do I do with it?
CLARA BOW
Brinkley. Ya wanna end yer sufferin’, right? And set yaself free?
BRINKLEY
Yes.
CLARA BOW
That’s what the pillow’s for. You put it on her face. And ya press down. And ya wait fer five minutes. And then yer pain is ovah.
BRINKLEY
I can’t do that.
CLARA BOW
Ya hafta, if ya wanna be free uh her. And if you wanna get some sleep.
BRINKLEY
I don’t trust death.
CLARA BOW
Well ya sure as hell can’t trust life. Does too many awful thingsta people.
BRINKLEY
That’s true.
CLARA BOW
’Course it’s true. She’s in a dead sleep. Too bad she won’t feel a thing. You’ll be better off. And she’ll be—well, who gives a shit?
BRINKLEY
(nodding vigorously)
Better off. Better off. Better off. Better off. Better off.
CLARA BOW
Brinkley!
BRINKLEY
Yes?
CLARA BOW
Do ya need ta write it down?
BRINKLEY
Write what down?
CLARA BOW
What tuh do with the pillow.
BRINKLEY
No. I will remember.
CLARA BOW
Good. But ya can only do the pillow thing after ya light the candle.
BRINKLEY
Candle?
CLARA BOW
Yeah. The candle. Remembah?
BRINKLEY
Oh yes! The candle! I found a candle. A white candle.
CLARA BOW
So ya light the candle, then we eat half the chop suey and a pickle, then ya sprinkle salt all around her, throw some ovah yer left shoulder, do the pillow thing and then we eat the rest uh the Chinese and read the fortunes in the cookies.
BRINKLEY
How long is the pillow thing going to take?
CLARA BOW
Five minutes. Write it down, ’cuz I won’t be givin’ out instructions.
Brinkley takes a deep breath and writes on a recipe card. A doorbell sounds.
BRINKLEY
(panicking)
I just heard the doorbell! The Chinese food is here!
CLARA BOW
It’s showtime, kid! Don’t forget, I’m yer angel.
BRINKLEY
You are a vision from Heaven.
CLARA BOW
Ya don’t look half bad yaself, kid. The tie looks a damn sight better on you than the dress. Pretty handsome, I gotta say.
BRINKLEY
Thank you.
Enormous tears leak from his eyes, faucet down his face. He does not blink or move.
CLARA BOW
It’s time, baby. And if ya don’t quit cryin’ and act like a man I’m gonna hafta kill ya. Got it? Now come on. Yer audience is waitin’.
BRINKLEY
My audience?
CLARA BOW
Yeah. Me.
BRINKLEY
I won’t disappoint you, Clara.
CLARA BOW
I know, Brinkley.
BRINKLEY
I love you, Clara.
CLARA BOW
I know, Brinkley.
I
n the beginning, a glow: gone was the movie, gone was the electronic snow, and a golden glow took their place, a warm, modest, melting glow, not a blinding light (that would be cliché, though for that very reason I was surprised Hell hadn’t scorched my eyeballs with the blaze of a thousand suns, and paired it with a bad pop song) and from that warmth emerged many pairs of golden hands, beckoning me into the mirror. I was too busy staring in wonderment to note my lack of fear, but maybe I did note it, in some cobwebbed corner, and took it for knowledge that I wasn’t staring down the Devil’s digits, and a wisp of possibility, a waif of hope (for hope had grown fashionably anorexic) that maybe God existed, and I had been remembered. The hands grew larger, reaching into the room toward me, long and elegant and lush and inviting, as though an eternal warm bath was cupped in the palms.
I dove in.
INT. RITA/MOTHER’S BEDROOM—NIGHT
Velvet glances around, looking very much like someone blinded by a light. Rita/Mother, drastically aged, is passed out on the bed. Velvet jumps as Brinkley and Clara Bow enter.
VELVET
Brinkley!
He does not hear or see her. Clara does, and she smiles and waves, then places a finger to her lips. She retreats into a corner and sits on the floor. Velvet moves to Brinkley, awe and tenderness marrying in her eyes, and touches his shoulder. He does not feel her. He moves away, places his basket and a plastic bag full of takeout cartons on a dresser, takes out the candle and packet of matches. She looks at Clara, who motions her over. Velvet remains still another moment, casting a longing glance at Brinkley, who is trying and failing to strike a match. Then she goes to the corner, sits on the floor beside the movie star. Brinkley’s hands are shaking so badly his match-lighting efforts are yielding no results. Sweat dews his face. When a flame finally appears he lights the candle, then lets the match burn while he stares transfixed at the belly-dancing roll of fire until it scorches his fingers. Velvet and Clara Bow cringe. He removes a takeout carton from the plastic bag and opens it, takes out two pairs of chopsticks and slips them from their paper coverings. They make a snapping sound as he breaks them apart. He eats a bit of the chop suey, gags, chokes, recovers, and carries it and a pair of chopsticks over to Clara Bow, places both on the floor in front of her, as though making an offering at a shrine. His eyes gaze at Clara’s; Velvet’s eyes gaze at his. Brinkley moves back to the dresser and opens the jar of pickles, eats one. The crunch seems to soothe him. He wipes his face with the wet cloth, scrubbing hard, and pulls a Kleenex from the Cotswold cottage chimney, blows his nose. Out comes the bowl of salt: he spills a little as he crosses from the dresser to Rita/Mother’s sleeping form. When he is beside her, his eyes widen and a strangled cry spazzes his throat; he backs away, then advances, retreats then advances again. Fingertip to salt, fingertip to tongue: he tastes it. Nodding, he sprinkles salt all around Rita/Mother, throws the remainder over his left shoulder. Back to the dresser, where he puts down the bowl and picks up the blue pillow. He crosses to the centre of the room, in between the dresser and the bed, and stands helpless and still, hugging the pillow. He looks at Clara, an impish smile twitching his lips. A snorting laugh unlooses. And then another. Clara begins to giggle. Velvet looks from one to the other, before letting out a snort of her own. All three shriek with laughter. Brinkley falls to the floor, clutching his stomach. Clara gasps for air while attempting to put a finger to her lips.
Velvet can’t stop snorting, which makes her laugh even harder. Brinkley picks himself up and staggers to the bed, still wracked by spasms of laughter. He muffles his mouth with his hands. Then, in a sudden burst of motion, he grabs the pillow and plunges it down. Rita/Mother’s body jerks and writhes, a mad spider. While he presses the pillow he counts, softly. Clara Bow continues to giggle, poking Velvet and pointing at the bed. Velvet watches with eyes huge and blinkless. Rita/Mother’s body stops moving, but Brinkley counts on. When Brinkley has counted five sets of sixty, he backs away from the body and falls into a rocking chair. He looks at Clara as if waiting for further instructions. She attempts to compose herself, stands and mimes rocking a baby.
CLARA BOW
(sings)
“Rock-a-bye, baby
In the treetop
When the wind blows
The cradle will rock . . .
When the bough breaks
The cradle will fall
And down will come baby
Cradle and all . . .”
Clara curtsies. Brinkley claps, as though at an opera. Both begin to laugh again, and soon they are helpless, Brinkley on the chair, Clara on the floor. Velvet rushes to him, kneels and clasps his hand. He does not notice her.
VELVET
Brinkley! Brinkley, it’s me, Velvet! I’m here!
He shrieks with mirth and his convulsions infect Velvet, who holds his hand and cries with laughter. Clara dances around the room.
CLARA BOW
Ding dong, the witch is dead!
Brinkley’s laughter subsides. Now he has the hiccups, and Velvet catches them.
CLARA BOW
Drink from the wrong side uh the cup, that’s the ticket. Gets ridda them in a jiffy. Or do ya have a sugar cube? Put one on yer tongue and plug yer nose.
BRINKLEY
No.
(hiccup)
Hold your
(hiccup)
breath for ten seconds.
He takes a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks. Velvet follows suit.
BRINKLEY
See? All better. Works every time.
CLARA BOW
Yer ma’s all better too! Better dead!
Clara laughs and Brinkley nods. She twirls around, swinging her arms.
CLARA BOW
Good show, baby, good show!
BRINKLEY
Aspirin time?
CLARA BOW
Absolutely!
BRINKLEY
How many?
CLARA BOW
Nine.
VELVET
Nine? That’s too many!
Brinkley can’t hear her and Clara ignores her. Velvet starts toward Brinkley, but Clara glares at her and she stops. Brinkley swallows the pills one at a time, without water, chewing a little. He pulls a Kleenex from the Cotswold chimney and wipes sweat from his face, rubs the wet cloth over the front and back of his neck, inside his ears.
CLARA BOW
Time for Chinese food, baby. We gotta send yer ma off right. She got what was comin’ to ’er. And now you’re free!
Brinkley nods. He moves to a small vanity table next to the rocking chair, where a mirror hangs, and picks up a gold tube of red lipstick, takes off the cap and turns it up all the way. He draws a heart on the mirror, framing his reflection, and poses. He mimes holding a microphone, and sings “My Funny Valentine.”
Clara claps wildly and Brinkley bows. He returns to the dresser, picks up the plastic bag, drops to the floor and begins unpacking the Chinese food.
BRINKLEY
Dinnertime.
Clara is doing the Charleston.
CLARA BOW
A little party, in honour uh you finally havin’ the guts!
BRINKLEY
You’re a great dancer.
CLARA BOW
Dancin’ is Heaven!
BRINKLEY
Do you believe in Hell, Clara?
CLARA BOW
(still dancing)
You’ll never go there, that’s fer sure!
BRINKLEY
What about my mother?
Clara stops dancing.
CLARA BOW
That’s not fer you ta decide, baby. Ya did the right thing. Cross my heart ’n’ kiss my earlobes. Let’s eat I’m starvin’!
Velvet sits with Brinkley and Clara on the floor, watching as they devour the Chinese takeout.
CLARA BOW
Hello. Sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier. I hadda keep my mouth shut ’til he did the pillow thing. My name’s Clara Bow.
She extends her hand to Velvet, who shakes it.
VELVET
Yes, I know who you are. The great movie star. The “It Girl” of the ’20s. It’s an honour to meet you.
Brinkley is unaware of their conversation.
CLARA BOW
Ah well, thanks. The movie business is murder, I can tell ya that much.
VELVET
I’m sure it is. You’re so beautiful. Um . . . How is it that you’re here?
CLARA BOW
Whaddya mean?
VELVET
I mean, how can you be here? Do you time travel?
CLARA BOW
How could I be anywhere else? I’m Brinkley’s special friend.
VELVET
So am I.
CLARA BOW
So that’s why you’re here?
VELVET
Yeah. That’s why I’m here. But he can’t see me.
CLARA BOW
What can I say, honey? He’s only got eyes fer me.
(pause)
Sorry fer askin’, but do you got uh disease or somethin’? How come yer hair is different colors? And you got bald patches. How come yer eyes look kinda funny?
VELVET
Um, no, I don’t have a disease. It’s a long story.
(pause)
Will you tell him sometime that I was here?
CLARA BOW
Sure I will. What’s yer name?
VELVET
Velvet.
CLARA BOW
Yer name’s Velvet? That’s the bee’s knees! I love velvet opera coats.
VELVET
Thanks. So do I.
Clara pulls open the bag of fortune cookies. She cracks a cookie.
CLARA BOW
(reads)
“You have the qualities to become a star.”
(throws it over her shoulder and snorts)
Ha! Tell me somethin’ I don’t know.
She cracks another cookie.
CLARA BOW
(reads)
“You will live a very happy life.”
(rips it up)
Bullshit! This stuff’s bunk! Read yours, Brinkley.
BRINKLEY
(cracks one and reads)
“You will find true love where you least expect it.”
Clara giggles and looks coy.
BRINKLEY
I love you, Clara.
CLARA BOW
That’s right, baby.
Velvet looks long at Brinkley. She reaches out and touches his face.
VELVET
(softly)
Brinkley . . .
CLARA BOW
Brinkley! Watch this!
She jumps up and runs across the room, begins to Charleston wildly beside Rita/Mother’s body. Brinkley forces a smile.
BRINKLEY
You’re a real floorflusher.
Velvet places both her hands on his face. She touches his hair.
VELVET
(softly)
Brinkley, I want you to know that I—