Grosse Pointe Blank Page #10

INT. NURSING HOME - DAY

MARTIN'S P.O.V.

of a NURSE leading him down a drab, antiseptic hallway. She

banks into the sunlit room where a wispy woman in her late

fifties sits expectantly on the edge of the bed clutching

her purse in one hand, a filterless Pall-Mall in the other,

a light coat on. This is MARY BLANK. She suffers from

Alzheimer's or something just as debilitating.

NURSE:

Mary, your son's here.

The nurse gently eases Mary up. Martin hugs Mary stiffly and

pats her shoulders. Mary takes hold of Martin's arm. They

start out of the room.

EXT. SUBURBAN STREET - DAY

They walk past a school-yard park fitted with a set of swings,

baseball diamonds, and a small grove of trees. She smokes

and hacks.

MARY:

I bought a new rug.

MARTIN:

That's wonderful, Mom.

MARY:

What's a revival tent?

MARTIN:

It's a place where religious people--

MARY:

(knowingly)

Marlin Perkins and Jim!

MARTIN:

Jim?

MARY:

His assistant. He acted like Marlin's

son, only he wasn't. At least they

never said he was... I bet they were

lovers, faggots. Yes, gay lovers.

Wild Kingdom my ass!

Mary coughs horribly.

MARTIN:

It's good to see you. I'm sure you're

curious about what I've been doing.

MARY:

I spoke to your father the other

day.

MARTIN:

I imagine that'd be rather difficult.

MARY:

Nature made him then broke the mold.

Martin decides to change the subject.

MARTIN:

They told me you're taking lithium,

mom.

MARY:

Yes, they give me headaches. I have

a headache.

MARTIN:

You have a headache?

MARY:

I have a headache. You have a

headache?

MARTIN:

No, I don't have one.

MARY:

You don't have a headache. I have a

headache.

Mary leans in close, smiling.

MARY:

We had a good laugh, didn't we?

MARTIN:

Yeah. I guess we did.

EXT. NURSING HOME - DAY

As they head toward Martin's car, Mary stops and points to

it.

MARY:

Why don't you return this car and

borrow mine? Have Debi follow you to

the rent-a-car so you can get a ride

back.

MARTIN:

I think I'll go see Debi today.

MARY:

Of course you will.

MARTIN:

I can't think of anything to say to

her that seems appropriate given I

left and never said goodbye to her.

MARY:

Take care of her. She's a keeper.

MARTIN:

Yeah...

MARY:

And a leader. Didn't she meet Castro

on foreign exchange?

MARTIN:

I have always thought about her and

missed her.

A nurse approaches with a wheelchair.

MARY:

Separate the wheat from the chaff

and you've got the candle cat.

Together, Martin and the nurse help Mary into it. Mary gazes

at Martin, taking him in.

MARY:

Remember no matter how impossible

your problems feel. I've known people

without a chance in the world. And

all of a sudden, they have lives.

Time allows miracles. Let yourself

breathe, son.

Martin bends down and kisses her on the cheek. The nurse

spins the chair around and heads toward the building. He is

somewhat fatigued from the experience, but he tries once

more to connect.

MARTIN:

Mom...

The nurse stops and turns Mary around to face him. Mary looks

up at Martin and brightens. She starts to sing out like Ethel

Merman, arms out Broadway style.

MARY:

"What's up doc/ what's cookin'?/

What's up doc?/ Are ya lookin'?/

Hey! Look out! You're gonna hurt

someone,/ with that old shotgun,/

Hey... what's... up... Doooooc...!/

We really mean it!"

Mary stops short, and squints at Martin.

MARY:

Hey, you're a handsome devil. What's

your name?

EXT. GRAVEYARD ROAD - DAY

Martin stops the car and looks out the window at the sea of

headstones. He jerks his hand in a stiff wave...

MARTIN:

Hey Pop... You got off easy. The

house is a 7-11. Mom's a psycho-

pharmacological punching bag and I

murder for cash. If you were here I

think you'd be proud.

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