Lost Souls Page #7

Doctor's Office. Formica reception desk. Small waiting

room. Few PATIENTS sit, reading magazines, waiting for their

doctor.

Maya walks in the door, moving to the rectangular opening at

the check-in desk.

Young receptionist, visibly pregnant, castors around to Maya,

handing her the clipboard, standard procedure.

MAYA:

(taking it in, but ignoring it)

I don't know how to begin, by

boyfriend...

(looks around, in whisper)

my ex-boyfriend. The last time we were

together, he, sh*t...

Maya's on the verge of tears. The receptionist knows what's

coming.

MAYA (CONT'D)

I took one of those home pregnancy

tests, but I don't want to tell him.

I'm RH negative. My blood type is

negative...

(starting to cry)

If he's RH positive, I'll have to

terminate.

RECEPTIONIST:

(handing Maya Kleenex)

How many weeks are you honey/

MAYA:

Thirteen. The last time, can you

believe it? This is how he says

"Goodbye?"

RECEPTIONIST:

(registers alarm)

You need his blood-type. Like right

away.

MAYA:

(ready to let receptionist

connect the dots)

Well I know he's come here before.

RECEPTIONIST:

What's his name?

MAYA:

(carefully)

Peter...Peter Kelson.

RECEPTIONIST:

You just call?

MAYA:

(sniffling)

I didn't know what else to do...

A long moment, Maya's anxiety increasing, then:

RECEPTIONIST:

(castors back to Maya)

You're in luck. Says Peter Kelson's

an... AB negative.

Maya has a moment of confusion as...

RECEPTIONIST (CONT'D)

Two negatives always make a positive.

MAYA:

(overjoyed, huge smile)

Oh, thank you, thank you so much!

INT. BEDFORD RECTORY - DAY

Maya enters a small reception area. Behind its counter sits

an elderly DEACON and a SECRETARY.

SECRETARY:

May I help you?

MAYA:

Yes, I have some questions regarding the

baptismal records for one of our new

constituents.

SECRETARY:

And the person's name?

MAYA:

Peter Kelson.

EXT. SOHO STREET - LATE AFTERNOON

We see the normal activity of a Soho street. The camera

pulls back and into Peter's office where see Peter working at

his computer.

INT. PETER'S OFFICE - LATE AFTERNOON

It's a writer's domain. Books everywhere. Stacked and

shelved in an obvious order, by size and subject. There are

also several silver and leather-framed photos of Peter and

Claire with known literary celebrities. At the large granite

and birch desk, an exhausted Peter switches off his computer.

PETER:

(hits INTERCOM)

Mrs. Quintana, let's go home.

His secretary, MRS. QUINTANA, appears in the doorway. She's

a strong-willed Latino in her forties.

MRS. QUINTANA

I plan to.

(beat)

You want a tip?

PETER:

Lemme guess. The lottery.

MRS. QUINTANA

Sometimes I can just feel the numbers.

PETER:

You know what they say. You have the

same chance of winning whether you play

or not.

MRS. QUINTANA

You watch. One day, I'll hit the

jackpot, get the big house, car,

clothes. I'll have more money than God.

She smiles and exits.

MRS. QUINTANA (CONT'D)

(under her breath)

Y yo tendre mi propria secretaria.

SNAPPING off the lights in her office. And in the b.g., the

fragmentary sounds of a party going on somewhere down the

hall, in another office. A moment, then her outer office

door slams.

Peter goes back to work at his desk. Finishing up. Another

moment and he hears Mrs. Q's door PRESS BACK OPEN.

PETER:

(not looking up)

What'd you forget?

No response. Peter looks up. He waits, then continues to

put his things away in preparation for leaving. After a

moment, he glances up to see MAYA standing in the doorway.

She's taken pains to look attractive. Her best clothes. She

looks great. A simple beauty.

PETER (CONT'D)

(startled)

May I help you?

MAYA:

Peter Kelson?

PETER:

(observes everything about her)

Yes... and you are?

MAYA:

(slightly flirtatious,

gregarious)

I saw you on television yesterday. You

were brilliant.

PETER:

Thank you. Do you work in the building?

You coming from the party?

Maya takes the chair opposite Peter's desk. He stands

waiting. A little put off by her forwardness.

MAYA:

You said that malignant narcissism was

not evil.

PETER:

Not pure evil. That's correct.

MAYA:

And also that...

PETER:

(uncomfortable)

Listen, I'm sorry, but I'm running late.

MAYA:

That there is no such thing as evil with

a capital "E."

PETER:

Not the most popular opinion, but yes.

MAYA:

What if I told you I was a malignant

narcissist?

Intrigued, Peter stops what he's doing and sits down.

PETER:

A narcissist doesn't admit it. It's the

extreme of self-denial.

MAYA:

(ignoring Peter's comment)

And I also believe in God and the Devil.

In fact, I know they exist.

PETER:

Well, by saying that, you're

acknowledging the existence of a higher

power. Which, to a narcissist, is

impossible.

MAYA:

I murdered my parents, Mr. Kelson. And

while they deserved it, I still went to

confession the following Sunday.

Peter leans back in his chair. Studies her carefully.

Doesn't really know what to say.

PETER:

Ooooooh-kayyyyyy.

MAYA:

In the end, the jury saw it my way.

PETER:

Well, then it all seems to be working

out for you. Listen, Ms...?

MAYA:

Do you remember Henry Birdson? The math

professor who won the Salwen Medal, then

went home and killed his family?

PETER:

(irritated)

What's that got to do with you?

MAYA:

Last week the Catholic Church certified

him as genuinely possessed. You realize

how rarely they make that ruling?

PETER:

I do.

MAYA:

An exorcism was just held for Birdson.

It failed. Disastrously. Which means

there's still a demonic spirit present

in his body.

(then)

I was wondering, perhaps you'd like to

go meet Henry. He's pretty amazing.

PETER:

I'll bet.

MAYA:

On television, you seemed so sure of

yourself. If you're really that

confident, you'd be willing to let

someone prove you wrong?

PETER:

The world would be so much simpler if it

were all just about good and evil.

Unfortunately I find it much more

slippery and elusive place.

MAYA:

(intrigued by Peter's mind)

Well, I think it's very simple. Here's

a tape of Birdson's exorcism.

(drops tape on Peter's desk)

I'll be at the Public Library. Tomorrow

at 2... if you want to meet him.

Maya rises and heads for the door. Seductive. A certain

power in her clarity.

MAYA (CONT'D)

I believe that murder and murderers are

the most interesting proving ground for

these kinds of questions. Don't you?

Peter knows he agrees, but before he can respond, she's gone.

SMASH CUT TO:

EXT. PETER'S APARTMENT BUILDING - EARLY EVENING

It's a small, elegant building in Chelsea. Scaffolding

covers exactly half of the exterior. Building's being

sandblasted. CONSTANT GRATING NOISE. Work area's flooded in

artificial spotlight.

INT. LOBBY - CONTINUOUS

Peter walks past the building's doorman, JOSEF. Eastern

European, mid-60's, formal and outwardly polite. Josef nods

a professional "good evening" to Peter who acknowledges Josef

as he continues toward the elevator.

PETER:

(indicating noise)

Great sound. How the hell do you live

with that all day?

Josef laughs politely, he likes Peter. Peter presses the

elevator button and waits, sticking his free hand in a pocket

and as he pulls out Maya's tape, he remembers as...

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