INT. KITCHEN – NIGHT
Alexandra stands over the sink washing dishes, slowly working through the piles surrounding her. She’s wearing all black, from her dress to shoes. Her posture, although rigid, is defeated, like she’s trying and failing to stay afloat.
Everything is quiet except for the lull of scrubbing and water. The lights are on, but the atmosphere is somber, the world beyond the windows black.
There’s the soft CLICK of a door. Alexandra turns around, a dripping glass still in her hand.
PANSY (early 30s, same age as Alexandra, sharp angles) is leaning against the door frame, just looking at her. She’s also wearing all black, but looks much more put together.
There’s a beat when they do nothing but take the other in, then—
ALEXANDRA
It’s fine you know, you can go.
A pause, neither sure what they should do—let things remain as they were, or soldier forward.
After a moment, Pansy sighs, going over to turn on the old radio on the counter. It’s something sultry, but also has depth and maybe a little hidden vulnerability (think Lana Del Rey’s “Norman Fucking Rockwell”).
PANSY
It’s been a while.
Alexandra turns around to continue washing.
PANSY (cont’d)
And I’m not just going to leave.
Alexandra tenses up at the admission, shoulders trembling.
Pansy walks over, both too close and not close enough.
PANSY (cont’d)
Let me help. You shouldn’t be doing this.
ALEXANDRA
It’s fine.
Pansy reaches for a tea towel and begins drying the wet dishes that Alexandra has been piling precariously onto the dish rack.
PANSY
It’s not fine. You know it’s okay to let people help sometimes.
Alexandra is hesitant, but she reluctantly hands over the glass.
ALEXANDRA
Thank you.
They work together in silence, their movements flowing into the other. They’ve made a good team in the past.
ALEXANDRA (cont’d)
I didn’t expect you to come.
Pansy’s face falls.
PANSY
Of course I’d come, Lexi.
The tenderness of her voice and the use of Pansy’s old nickname for her makes Alexandra drop her dish into the sudsy water. The CLASH echoes throughout the kitchen. Both Pansy and Alexandra stand there as if they’re not sure what they were doing in the first place.
PANSY (cont’d)
You deserve to have someone here for you right now.
ALEXANDRA
And I appreciate that.
(beat)
I just wish you were someone else.
Pansy can’t respond to that. If it were her, she’d say the same thing.
ALEXANDRA (cont’d)
I’m sorry.
PANSY
It’s… OK. I know what you mean.
The tension between them rises in time with the music. Alexandra turns and touches Pansy lightly, like a question. Are they going to do this? They lean in to each other.
In a surge of mixed grief and confidence, Alexandra leans forward and kisses Pansy. For a moment, it’s the same as it was in the past, when they were briefly in love. But then Pansy comes to her senses, gently pushing Alexandra away.
ALEXANDRA
Pans—
PANSY
I’m engaged.
Shocked, Alexandra backs away.
ALEXANDRA
Oh.
PANSY
We met at a party. She’s a football player, actually. Which was a bit funny since you know how I don’t watch sports.
Alexandra doesn’t laugh or find it funny. Somehow the fact that she’s an athlete makes it so much worse.
ALEXANDRA
When did that happen?
PANSY
About six months after we split. I should… I should have told you sooner.
ALEXANDRA
It’s OK.
PANSY
I didn’t even mean for it to happen.
ALEXANDRA
Don’t say that.
PANSY
Sorry, I’m sorry.
ALEXANDRA
What’s her name?
PANSY
Georgia. Georgia Williams.
ALEXANDRA
Did you propose?
PANSY
No. She did.
ALEXANDRA
And you just—You thought you’d just come here, and—?
PANSY
I’m sorry Lexi.
Alexandra smiles and it aches, brittle and tired.
ALEXANDRA
It’s fine.
She unplugs the sink, and they both watch as the water drains loudly. Alexandra turns her back to the counter.
ALEXANDRA (cont’d)
I haven’t been with anyone since us.
(beat)
I’ve barely looked at another woman.
PANSY
Oh, Lexi.
ALEXANDRA
Stop calling me that.
Pansy scrubs a hand over her face, not ready to accept defeat, but seeing that she might have made a mistake.
PANSY
Look, I’m sorry. I know you’ve been struggling and I guess I just wanted… I wanted to support you, I don’t know. You still matter to me, Alexandra. You’ll always matter to me.
Alexandra grimaces, her vulnerability making her frightened, her fear making her angry.
ALEXANDRA
But not in the same way you matter to me.
PANSY
That’s not fair.
ALEXANDRA
Isn’t it? You show up here to—to “support me”? So you what, let all of this happen only to…!
She’s so angry she can’t finish her sentence. She waves her hands in place of words.
PANSY
I didn’t mean for it to happen that way.
Alexandra doesn’t respond, just turns away, trying to hide her anger and disappointment. Pansy sighs, but doesn’t want to push it.
Pansy heads for the door, then turns for one last look.
PANSY (cont’d)
I’m sorry about your mother.
A soft CLICK as she closes the door behind her.
Alexandra faces the radio that Pansy turned on and tries to keep her emotions in check—arms wrapped around herself—and there’s the same sultry woman’s voice, the same song signalling the departure of the only two people Alexandra has ever loved.
FADE TO BLACK
Featured graphic by Sara Mizannojehdehi.
