23. The Envy of God-Eric

• FADE IN


• EXT. MANSION-TWILIGHT


• Heidi exits her small sedan, carrying a burgundy guitar case. She cradles a stack of booklets under her other arm. The moon is an orange-amber color; it bathes her in a faint aura. The pavement sparkles with an invisible, black layer of ice. Her breath rises up like plumes of smoke as she casually walks to the portico of the mansion. She uses the gold knocker and a moment later an Italian looking man answers.
• He doesn't say anything for a few seconds; he appears to be mesmerized. Finally, he smiles and waves her in. The black and white marble tiles in the foyer gleam with a fresh polished look. The mansion is decorated with expensive fur sofas, several nude busts, and gold lamps and vases. Several candles are teasing the tile and the room with their faint glow. A few Warhol lithographs hang on the walls among other black and white photos.
• Heidi leans her guitar case against a beige fur sofa and sits down, placing the booklets out of Kevin's view. He smiles at her and walks to the bar. He comes back with a silver canister of ice and pulls a wine bottle from it. He grabs two wine glasses from the table and pours drinks. They begin sipping. A faint, coy smile curtains her cheeks.


• KEVIN
• Its been too long.


• HEIDI
• Yeah...it seems forever. Are you...still with-


• Kevin's mouth hangs in a tug of confusion and anger. He practically leaps out of the seat. He shakes his head and begins pacing the room.


• KEVIN
• You know it doesn't matter who I'm with. And I thought we weren't supposed to talk about it anymore, our deal remember? We both know it won't work.


• HEIDI
• Everything feels perfect, until you start talking like that. I feel like I'm a little girl surrounded by these huge bouquets. And I'm trying to peek my head over to steal one last look at my mother before they close the casket. But I can't see for the flowers.


• Kevin smiles suddenly, and takes a sip of wine, swishing it around in his mouth before swallowing it.


• KEVIN
• You still talking to your therapist?...You know what? I'm not going to get mad for you, but I'm not going to let you kid yourself either.


• Kevin places a record on a gold, antique gramophone. Soft, female vocals slowly evaporate from it. They begin dancing, slowly losing themselves under a clay red moon.


• INT. KEVIN'S MANSION-NIGHT


• Kevin and Heidi sit at opposite ends of the sofa, looking exhausted. Kevin is wearing an undershirt; his suit coat is lying next to several empty bottles of wine on the inn table. Heidi pulls the guitar out of the case and begins plucking a tune, singing softly. Kevin notices a book in the pile that Heidi concealed earlier. The title reads: Human Instruments by Trent M. Needly. He picks up the book, and when Heidi notices she hastily snatches it from his hands.


• KEVIN
• Wow, that good? Your secret diary or something? Heidi, this has been so nice. I haven't danced til sunrise in so long. But I'm exhausted. I'm going to get some sheets and blankets for you. Pour us another glass while I'm gone?


• Heidi nods. Kevin leaves to fetch the sheets. She tucks the booklets in the crevice of the sofa's armrest and uncorks a fresh bottle of wine. She pours two glasses, then pulls a small, folded piece of paper from a pocket. She unfolds the tiny square of PAPER and empties its white, powdery contents into one glass. Kevin enters carrying sheets and pillows, and begins adjusting it to fit the sofa. She hands him the spiked glass of wine.


• KEVIN
• You're the only one I know who sleeps on a sofa when there's ten other guest rooms. But I know, I know. You feel suffocated in rooms.


• Kevin finishes making her bed and they sit, looking away from each other, emptying the last bit of wine. Kevin begins nodding, and choking. He tries to stand up, but stumbles after a few seconds, collapsing to the floor like a bag of flour. Heidi stands behind him, looping his legs under either arm, and drags him to a back room.


• INT. BATHROOM-EARLY MORNING


• The bathroom is dimly lit by candles; Kevin sits naked on the toilet, casting a strange shadow on the closed shower curtain. Bathwater is running; the room is misty with steam. Heidi begins humming a soft melody.


• HEIDI
• Your problem is you believed the doctor's death sentence, Kev. You let that stop your whole life. If I believed every doctor, I might have ended it a long time ago. Don't you agree?


• Kevin does not respond. Heidi pulls back the curtain, revealing the jacuzzi tub full of BLOOD. She is bathing in it. A wine glass of blood stands next to an ashtray with a lit cigarette. A steaming plate of fillet flesh sits in another corner of the jacuzzi tub.
• KEVIN is shriveled, white clam meat. Wrinkles run the course of his entire body, like thin tributaries. His eyes are open, and bulge out of their sockets, devoid of any spark. Heidi shrugs and closes the shower curtain. She begins showering and humming again. After she is finished she drags Kevin to a guestroom and inexpertly hoists him on the bed. She turns off the light and climbs into bed with him. Her fingers leaf through his hair.


• HEIDI
• You said not to kid myself. You've been kidding yourself for forty years. Just because your rich, and surrounded by artists it doesn't make you one. But after I make love to you, I'm going to do something for you that you could never do youself. That's how much I love you.


• INT. FOYER-EVENING


• Headlights blare through the foyer as a car slows over gravel. Heidi walks in carrying several plastic bags. She takes them to the den. She leaves and returns with several more bags. She meticulously takes the objects out of the bag: metal cans of varnish, a hammer, plastic boxes of tiny nails, a large handsaw, slats of wood, and shiny, brass harp strings. She leaves once more and returns with the booklets. The book Human Instruments rests on top of the pile.
  
• HEIDI
• We're going to be the envy of the world. We're going to be the envy of God. He can't write the saddest most beautiful song, because he can't be sad. We're going to make music that only the dying can sing, and for those who've lost love. But now, I'll never ever lose you again, will I?


• She begins slicing Kevin's chest open carefully. No blood comes from the wound.


• HEIDI
• I'm glad you're in queen heaven, floating with angels on gossamer strings. I'm glad you can't feel any of this. I know you're going to look down when I'm done and be so proud of me. You're finally going to be something. Now, everyone is going to envy you for a change. And it's better that I took you before the cancer, don't you think?


• INT. DEN-MORNING
• Beautiful music is coming from the den. Heide is singing in harmony. Kevin's CHEST has been hallowed out, and paneled with slats of varnished wood. Strings run from his neck to a plastic fixture inside his pelvis. HEIDI leans over him, reaching in and plucking the strings. Her head is raised up and slowly swaying with the music.


• FADE OUT