Frequency Page #5

JOHN:

You're right. We should've quit a long

time ago.

Sam can't hold back anymore - she cries openly.

JOHN (CONT'D)

It's not your fault. It's mine. I can't

change. Wish I could, Sam. But I can't.

And suddenly Samantha's tears turn to anger.

SAMANTHA:

That's not true and you know it.

John has no reply. All he can do is watch as she takes her

stuff and heads for the door.

SAMANTHA (CONT'D)

Goodbye, Chief.

John stands immobilized in the middle of the room. He looks

down and spots a TEDDY BEAR half stuck under a reading chair.

And then to a photo of him and Sam at a CARNIVAL SHOOTING

GALLERY. Sam's holding the teddy bear. John turns at the

SOUND of the backdoor slamming. Looks out a window down to

Samantha getting in her car and driving away.

INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS

John enters, goes straight for a half empty bottle of

BUSHMILLS IRISH WHISKEY. As he brings the bottle to his

mouth...BRRRRING. The PHONE.

INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - FAMILY ROOM - CONTINUOUS

Swigging Bushmills as he steps to a combination portable

phone/answering machine, John takes off his jacket. We

notice two things: an NAPPED DETECTIVE SHIELD and a .38

REVOLVER.

BRRIING. John grabs the phone.

JOHN:

What? It don't matter, Lady. Why?...

Cause I don't got no friends or family.

BANG. Slams down the phone. And stares around the room.

WE'VE BEEN IN THIS HOUSE BEFORE -- 29 YEARS AGO. This was

Frank and Julia sullivan's house. Time has not been good to

it. Furnishings haven't changed much, but the house is

missing the warmth it had when a family filled it with love.

John's eyes dart to a PHOTOGRAPH next to the desk. It is a

picture of THE SULLIVAN FAMILY from back then. Too many

memories. He grabs his coat, heads out...

EXT. LITTLE LEAGUE BASEBALL FIELD - QUEENS - EVENING

The field is EMPTY. Covered in shadows. John sits alone on

the top row of the BLEACHERS, cradling his bottle of

BUSHMILLS. He takes a long pull. As he stares down at the

empty field, his eyes slowly drift over to home plate...

AUDIO FLASHBACK:
a VOICE rises up out of the darkness. The

voice of memory...

ANNOUNCER:

Batting next. Johnny Sullivan.

We hear the SOUNDS of CHEERING parents. The CLAPPING,

WHISTLING & SHOUTING is hauntingly juxtaposed against the

empty playing field and bleachers we see on the screen.

CRACK:
sound of the bat solidly connecting with the ball.

CAMERA follows invisible runner from home to first base.

ANNOUNCER (CONT'D)

Sullivan's safe at first. Batting for

Johnny's father is...Coach Newman.

John takes a deep breath, glances from first base back to

home plate...then looks off into the distance - a cold

thousand yard stare.

EXT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - NIGHT

John shuffles up the pathway. The SOUND of a TV - X-FILES -

filters out from inside the house.

INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - CONTINUOUS

John walks in the front door. GORDY JR., 8, carrying an

overstuffed BLT, whizzes by...

GORDY JR.

Hi, Uncle John.

John notices smoke filtering out of his kitchen.

JOHN:

I'm not your uncle, kid.

(yelling into kitchen)

Gordo, what are you doing here?

GORDO (O.S.)

Sully! Is that you?

Follow John into the kitchen.

INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS

Meet GORDON HERSCH, 35, computer geek, lovable dough boy.

Last seen by us in 1969 as a six-year old.

GORDO:

Hey, Sull. My cable's out again.

JOHN:

What the hell is that smell?

John glances at a mound of burnt bacon dripping on the stove.

GORDO:

Can you believe Ellen still won't let me

cook in the house? I melt one lousy

frying pan, y'know?

Gordy Jr. scoots into the kitchen.

GORDY JR.

John, guess what? Dad's taking me

fishing. Wanna come?

JOHN:

Wish I could, Gordy. But you bring me

back a big one.

GORDO:

Hey, OK if Gordy uses your old gear?

JOHN:

I think it's somewhere in the closet...

if you can find it.

Gordy Jr. runs out. O.S. sounds of him rummaging through

hall closet.

GORDO:

So Yahoo went up another two points.

Man, did we miss the boat on that one.

John puts the Bushmills bottle down, and grabs two Molsons.

JOHN:

Coulda, woulda, shoulda, pal.

John laughs, hands Gordo a beer, and lights up a cigarette.

GORDO:

Sam called Ellen.

John reacts. Nothing else needs to be said. A beat, then...

GORDO (CONT'D)

Why don't you come with us? Three days

of fresh air and barbecue would do you

some good, man.

GORDY JR. (O.S.)

Dad, John, c'mere...

INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - ENTRY HALL - CONTINUOUS

Gordy Jr. sticks out of the closet, attempting to drag out a

large BLACK STEAMER TRUNK, stenciled with yellow letters.

GORDO:

Hey, Gordy, what 'ya doing?

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