Soon to be a major motion picture, Part One

A man’s hand slams a phone down on its receiver. He is furious. He starts tearing through an empty house, sifting through papers, pulling a few pieces of clothing off hangars, stuffing them in a worn duffel bag. A door slams, and his feet are shown walking to a white sedan.

He is seen driving into a car dealership, then driving off in a blue convertible. He looks a lot like Matthew Fox.

He drives on a highway, then into a town where he begins checking written directions from a printed email. He pulls into a drive way and waits, when a woman, who looks a lot like Amy Adams, comes running out with a large tote bag and a carry on. His cold hard stare melts to see her, and he gets out of the car. She runs to him, drops her bags, and they throw their arms around each other. He spins her around and they are both grinning ear to ear. He puts the bags in the trunk as she hops in the driver’s seat, then they drive away.

Their banter in the car is light and excited. They obviously share a history. They drive throughout the day and stop at a less than reputable hotel. They stay up late that night, eating potato chips and drinking import beer, mocking endless episodes of The Golden Girls and debating the layered performances of Bea Arthur and Betty White. They are obviously not lovers, at least, not any more. They fall asleep sitting up, with their heads resting on each other, surrounded by the casualties of the evening.

The next day he drives, and they look happy and carefree with their sunglasses on. He asks her if “he” knows she is taking a vacation, and she reacts harshly. I don’t want you to even mention him, she says. I just want to get away. He says he knows. It is obvious that he knows very well.

The Midwest fading behind them, they drive past mountains and thru a desert to another motel. After checking in, they stop at a bar to get a sandwich and a drink. He strikes up a conversation with the hot bartender, and she is quickly irritated. More than irritated, even, especially when they both disappear for 20 minutes. When he returns, she doesn’t say anything. What? he says. Some things never change, she says. He tells her she has no idea. They go back to the hotel and go straight to bed, with their backs to each other and miles between them.

The next morning, she wakes up to an empty room and a note. He is at the diner next door; how about some breakfast? She walks into the diner to see him reading a paper, drinking a cup of coffee. He looks up at her and smiles. She can’t help but smile back, and sits down with him. All is forgiven.

The landscape changes again as they drive to lush rolling hills and trees. They are in wine country. It turns out that this is the trip they always planned on taking together. They have planned each vineyard they want to visit, can’t wait to fulfill what has been a dream years in the making. At the first vineyard, they sit at the tasting next to a friendly Australian who looks very much like Eric Bana and who is traveling alone. The three of them hit it off, and soon the Australian is in the back seat as they drive to the second vineyard of the day.

It is soon apparent that the mysterious traveler is paying more attention to her than to him. He watches, almost intrigued, then strikes up a conversation with a beautiful blond who is also from the Midwest. He is always stealing glances at his friend and the Australian, and the blonde soon tires of this. He is alone with his glass of cabernet.

Suddenly he gets up and goes over to them. He tells her that it’s time to go. She looks at him like she doesn’t recognize this – what is this, jealousy? – and he tries to be cool, wishing the Aussie good luck and safe travels. They leave, and she is angry but doesn’t say anything. They drive to a nice resort where they have reservations.

That night, in front of a fire, he tells her she is better than that. She says she knows; he was the one who taught her that. This stings him. They were together once, but it was a lifetime ago, before her marriage and divorce. She says that, since the divorce, she just wants to rediscover who or what she is. She doesn’t remember what it feels like to have fun or to be with someone who wants to be with her. He listens and looks at her as if she were his father confessor. He tells her he is sorry. She takes his hand and tells him the girl who he wronged doesn’t exist anymore. She holds his hand too long before she lets it go.

She says she is going to take a walk, to clear her head. Through the dimly lit lobby to the pool outside, she sees her Australian. She can’t believe it; what is he doing here? I’m staying here, he says with a smile. They sit by the pool under the cabana and put their feet in the water. Soon he leans over to kiss her, holding her face with his hands. On the other side of the pool, across the deck, a door opens and he walks out. His eyes are immediately drawn to the couple and his face hardens. He turns and walks back inside.

*Part two coming soon! Let me know what you think. BTW, please don't steal this. I have two fantastic attorneys and I will sue the pants off of you.