Grand Canyon Page #5

---

Yeah.

I called,

and they said you'd be

getting in about now.

I wanted to thank you again

for the other night.

You did already.

Look...

can I buy you

breakfast somewhere

or something?

Yeah. Sure.

Just a minute.

All right?

You play basketball?

I played

in high school.

Sixth man for a year

and a half.

Me, too. Sixth man

until my senior year.

Then I started.

Center or forward?

Forward. I wasn't

big enough for center.

Must have been

some team.

We had Oscar Benson

on that team.

No sh*t?

You must be

pretty good.

I wasn't playing

the same game

that Oscar was playing.

Uh, look...

the other night...

You weren't in any danger

except for maybe

losing your wallet.

I didn't save your life,

so don't think you have

to say something to me.

One morning

about three years ago,

I was on my way

to a meeting

at the Mutual Benefit

building on Wilshire

in the Miracle Mile.

I love that name...

Miracle Mile.

It's the building

across the street

from the County

Art Museum.

I was thinking

about the meeting.

I was worried about it,

actually.

I started

to step off the curb...

and a stranger

grabbed me

and yanked me back

as a city bus went

flying by my nose.

It filled up the world

6 inches from my nose.

I would have been

a wet bug stain.

I wouldn't have

even felt it.

It would have been

over so fast.

I thanked this stranger,

this woman

in a baseball cap,

but I was pretty much

in a daze.

When I thanked her,

she said, "My pleasure. "

I didn't notice

till the last moment

the cap she wore was

from the Pittsburgh

Pirates,

my favorite team

since I was a kid.

Roberto Clemente.

Right.

I never

got over the idea

that I should have

thanked that woman more,

talked to her,

something.

She reached out

and yanked me back

from the edge,

literally changed

everything for me,

for my wife

and my son.

Then she just

wandered off

down the Miracle Mile.

And how come she was

wearing a Pirates cap?

That's unusual at 9 A.M.

On Wilshire Boulevard,

a woman in a Pittsburgh

Pirates baseball cap.

It's suspicious.

You lost me.

I just wondered

later on,

was she for real?

Was that

a real person,

or was that

something else?

You know, sent

from somewhere else

to grab me back

from that curb.

Is that what you're

wondering about me?

I just couldn't

let it happen again.

I didn't want to just

let you drift away

like she did

and never talk to you.

Didn't seem right

to let it happen twice.

That's why

I'm bothering you.

You're not bothering me.

You're just

buying me breakfast.

Good.

You got a right

to try to figure out

what confuses you,

but it seems like you're making

more of this than it is.

The world's a hard place.

Sometimes

you just get lucky.

I believe in luck.

Of course,

sometimes you don't.

One thing's for sure...

If you're alive,

some terrible sh*t's

gonna happen to you.

Maybe some

good things, too,

but you can always

count on the terrible.

If it doesn't kill you,

you'll be around to see it

come down some other way.

Thank you, honey.

No. No, thanks.

My... father died

last year.

81 years old.

That's a long time

for a black man

to live in this town.

He outlived

everyone he ever knew.

Saw two wives die

and three of his children.

He had a great

ugly old face

that looked like a suitcase

gone a million miles...

all beat up and dented

and scuffed and stained.

He looked like he walked

80 years on that face.

When I used

to look at that face

and see

all the pain there,

all the things he lost,

all the hurt he had,

I wondered why

he wanted to go on,

why he just didn't

lay down and give it up.

Did you figure it out?

No. Never figured out

much about that guy.

I asked him, though.

What did he say?

Habit.

Does your sister

have a job?

She's a cashier

atJon's.

Lets her work her hours

around her

little girl's school.

Would they let her

transfer

to another store?

I don't know. Why?

I was just wondering

about something.

What's that?

Just seems like

an impossible situation.

You can't live

your life like that,

thinking someone's going

to shoot up your house.

A lot of people do.

You know,

I know this guy

who's got an apartment

house in Canoga Park.

I might be able to get

her something out there

at a very

reasonable price.

Uh...

Hey, listen, Mack,

thanks, but, uh...

I'm not so sure

it's a good idea.

O.K. I'm not going

to push it

if you're not

comfortable.

Maybe you want

to think about it.

You don't have

to decide now.

Yeah, maybe.

O.K.

You got my number.

Yeah, O.K.

Simon?

Yeah.

What is it exactly?

I want to know

for two reasons...

to know if it's

what I think it is

and that I haven't done

something to offend you.

That's the last thing

I wanted to do.

Man, you are

a piece of work.

Sometimes I let stuff go,

and then I wonder

about it later.

O.K., here it is.

I guess

I think it's hard,

maybe even dangerous,

mucking around with

other people's lives.

Sometimes

there's a reason

they're doing

what they're doing.

That's a tough one.

You don't want to f***

with things you shouldn't.

But you don't always

want to turn away, either.

Is that what you

thought it was?

Yeah, that and...

you know...

the white guy.

You white?

Hey, how about

Canoga Park?

That's pretty white,

ain't it?

No, not really.

Think about it.

I'll see you.

To try and understand

just what exactly

had been

delivered unto me

at the cost

of flesh and bone

and precious blood,

what message was being

delivered to me

in a. 38-caliber

envelope

for me to open and read

and understand,

and this problem,

this, um, difficulty

I was having

in understanding,

it grew on me

like a fever.

It buzzed

around my brain

till I could

no longer sleep

or eat or think

about anything else.

It was as painful

and real

as the physical wound

I saw in my thigh.

What?

Nothing.

Go on. I want

to hear this.

I had a feeling that you

more than anyone else

would have a problem

taking me seriously.

I am taking you

seriously.

I'm sorry for whatever

you think you saw.

First you have to tell me

what made you smile.

"Unto. "

What?

You said,

"delivered unto" you.

I'm sorry.

That is purposeful.

We're talking about

a religious experience.

I might say doth or thou

or lots of things.

Please, Davis,

go on.

The suspense

is killing me.

The end of this long,

torturous night,

my head pounding

in syncopation

to my throbbing wound,

there came a glorious,

delicate dawn,

and I knew,

I knew I can't make

those movies anymore.

I can't make

another piece of art

that glorifies violence

and bloodshed

and brutality.

I can't contribute

another stone

to this landslide

of dehumanizing rage

that has swept

across this country

like a pestilence.

That's a mixed metaphor,

isn't it?

Anyway, I'm done,

kaput, finis...

No more exploding bodies,

exploding buildings,

exploding anything.

No more sh*t.

Davis,

that's wonderful.

Rate this script:3.5 / 2 votes